Easter Traditions & Resurrection Eggs

Last year, I put together a post on Christ-Centered Easter Traditions.  If you're on a quest for some activities to do with the kids that will help them understand Easter, then check it out.  And if you're just in need of a cute baby fix, then visit last year's post to look at my Isabelle in her gorgeous dress and bonnet on her first Easter.

I'm hoping to make either Easter cookies or the Resurrection Rolls that Liz mentioned in the comments section of my blog last year.  I did a search and found both recipes posted on one website, so here's the link for those recipes.   I want to make one or both of these recipes as part of our Easter traditions, but that can be a challenge when you're not at home for Easter.  We'll see what we can manage this year when we're out of town.

Resurrection Eggs
This year is my first time to delve into the fun of Resurrection Eggs.  Last year, I had no idea what they were, but upon the advice of a friend, I picked up the eggs on deep discount at Lifeway the day after Easter. 

Family Life's Resurrection Eggs are plastic easter eggs with small objects inside each egg.  The objects are a tangible way to tell the Easter story and share the gospel with your children.  I love the way these are packaged.  They come in a hard plastic egg carton and the top lid tells the contents of every egg and the order they belong in, which is really helpful if you're a tad OCD like myself--it's a cinch to keep them organized.  The package contains a booklet that explains the eggs and gives scripture references, and Family Life was smart enough to make the booklet the perfect size to fit in the egg carton, so it won't get lost. 

At two years of age, Isabelle is still pretty young to understand the concepts in resurrection eggs.  Still, she's having a blast with them.  We don't open just one a day because she gets so excited about them, and yesterday, we spent quite a bit of time going through the entire carton, twice!  It's her favorite thing to do every day, and I've learned not to start opening eggs before dinner or naptime, because she cries and pitches a fit when it's time to be done, and it makes it tough to transition to our next activity.  Yes, we've reached that "fun" stage of being two! 

Isabelle's favorite egg is the first one with the "gonkey" (donkey) in it.  Ask her who rode the donkey, and she'll tell you "sheesus" (Jesus).  I've explained to her that the people cried out "Hosanna in the highest!" but she just says "oh yeah highest!!"  When she opens the egg with the leather strip, representing the whip, and I explain that they hurt Jesus with a whip, Izzy gets really sad.  She doesn't grasp the Gospel, but because we read a lot of Bible stories, she understands Jesus as a hero, and it's sad to her that people would hurt him. 

When she opens the egg with the cross of nails, Isabelle gets excited because she recognizes the cross, but she's sad again when I explain to her that Jesus died on a cross.  Later, I make a big deal about Jesus being alive, but she doesn't really understand what life and death mean, so she's only catching onto my excitement.  Other eggs, like one with silver coins or the empty resurrection egg mean nothing to her, and she just enjoys pretending to drink out of the one with the cup, or she'll make the "gonkey" drink out of it.  She's definitely two! 

It doesn't bother me that Isabelle doesn't understand Easter yet or the Resurrection Eggs, because we have to start somewhere.  If she only picks up about 10% of the story this year, then we're making progress.  In general, it's great to teach children slightly above their knowledge base. In my education classes, it was called scaffolding. You build on what they know, always teaching up.  Don't assume that they can't handle information or are too young for it.  If I assumed that, my two year old wouldn't know her numbers, letters, and shapes, including an octagon.  I have no idea where she picked that up, but someone taught her about octagons while she was visiting with family recently, and she surprised me by pointing out an octagon this weekend.  Kids are like sponges, so capitalize on it.

As Isabelle gets older, then she'll understand more and more about the Lord each year, and more importantly, we hope and pray that it's not just head knowledge, but that she will love Christ and accept His sacrifice on her behalf. 

If you're looking for a fun way to tell the Easter story, pick up Resurrection Eggs.  Kids love object lessons and will look forward to discovering what's inside the eggs.

The Blessing of Friendship

As a rule, I don't normally blog on Sundays, but I came across a post that I just love on Sally Clarkson's blog, I Take Joy.  If you don't subscribe to her blog yet, you should!  Incidentally, I read her book, Seasons of a Mother's Heart last summer.  If you're a homeschooling mom or plan to be, you'd love it.  It's an encouraging and honest look at homeschooling and motherhood. 

Her post is If I have a friend with whom to share life, I will hold fast to my ideals.  It's actually written by Andrea Birch, and Sally Clarkson adds her own two cents at the beginning.  The article reminded me of a couple of dear friends of mine.  We encourage each other and each conversation leaves us wanting to be better moms, wives, and followers of Christ.  If you're blessed to have such an iron-sharpening friendship, hold fast to it.  If you're missing that in your life, then pray for it and cultivate it with other godly women.  This post has great tips on just how to do it.

As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.  -Proverbs 27:17

Barbie

Just for fun, check out Barbie Through the Ages. Anyone else own 1986's Barbie and the Rockers?

Yeah, she was cool.  Love that purple eye shadow.


Raising kids is tough, whether you've got little girls or little boys.  With girls, parents have to be aware of the issues of modesty and body image.  I read this article today on a life-size replica of Barbie, and it got me thinking about Barbie again, something my husband and I have discussed in the past.  She's not exactly modest and has been accused of hurting girls' self-image.  It's common knowledge that Barbie is not anywhere near being anatomically correct, and in recent years, Mattel widened Barbie's waist and shrunk her bustline. 

Do you or will you let your little girl play with Barbie?  The jury is still out on that issue here at the Daigle household.  I will say that I never felt that Barbie affected my self image, positively or negatively.

Of course, there are other great alternatives to Barbie.  We love the American Girl dolls.  Isabelle has the Bitty Twins.  While she's not into changing their outfits or fixing their hair yet, she loves to care for them as her "beebee dolls."  I frequently find one hanging out in the baby swing or sitting on the training potty.  I can't wait to get her one of the historical AG dolls, and I'm hoping she'll want Rebecca Rubin, the Jewish doll. 

So what are your thoughts on Barbie?

Mommy, I'm OK.

This is the sixth post to fill in the details on what happened with Andrew's emergency lung surgery last month. You can read the introductory post here.

I feel the need to give you "the rest of the story," as Paul Harvey would say.

Andrew had a great check-up on Monday with the surgeon.  We had more x-rays done before the appointment.  This poor child has been exposed to a ridiculous amount of radiation in his 10 weeks of living, but it was worth it.  The x-rays showed 1 1/2 beautiful lungs.  His right lung, which had some atalectasis (was slightly collapsed) now looks great.  The remaining half of his left lung is in great shape, and the surgeon said both sides of his chest sound the same--they sound great.

With time, the lower left lobe will grow and fill in the entire area where the top lobe used to be, and his lung function will eventually be like any other child's.  At this point, she said Andrew can handle sickness, so we can start leaving the house with him again.  We'll have another check-up in two months, but unless there are problems, we won't be having any more x-rays.  It's not worth the extra radiation, especially if he continues to be healthy.  The surgeon was incredibly positive about everything and was pleased to see him looking so great.

At his release from the hospital, the doctor and dietitian were incredibly concerned about his weight gain.  I felt confident that if he had unlimited access to nursing, he would gain weight rapidly, since he was such a great eater from birth.  Sure enough, at Monday's checkup, he was 12 pounds, 2 ounces, and he'd only weighed 10 pounds, 5 ounces two weeks prior.  That's nearly two pounds in two weeks!  It usually takes babies 16 days to gain a pound--one ounce per day.  He's doing extremely well.

I can't pretend that it's been easy coming home. It was a little scary, in fact, since we're completely in charge of Andrew's care now and we don't have immediate access to nurses and doctors. Emotionally, it was also difficult because of the emotions that come from being, as the doctor described, "hours or minutes" away from losing your child. I had to take a couple of days to just process and deal with all of that. It took several days for me to stop being weepy, and it has been a complete act of faith to trust God with our future. I don't know why it was hard. He has already carried us this far. But it really is hard to come so close to losing your tiny baby. So I'm soaking in the Psalms for my daily devotional, so that I can keep focusing and reflecting on God's amazing character.  He really is good.  All the time.

Everyone who has seen Andrew is amazed at how healthy he looks.  I guess it's hard to think of him as anything but a sick baby, so here he is, just cooing and grinning at me.  He's saying "Really mommy, I'm OK!"

Andrew's Emergency: Recovery

This is the fifth post to fill in the details on what happened with Andrew's emergency lung surgery last month. You can read the introductory post here.

Andrew had lung surgery on March 16, but stayed in the hospital until March 29.  Recovery was, as the surgeon described, like watching paint dry.  Sometimes we saw progress, but often, he appeared the same from day to day. 

He was in ICU for several days, but fortunately, his ICU room had a small couch where Damian and I could sleep, so we were still able to be in there with him.  Meals had to be eaten in the waiting room or in the cafeteria, and there was no restroom or shower in our room either, but we had access to one down the hall. 

While in ICU, he had excellent care around the clock.  Each nurse was only assigned two children to care for, and their rooms were side-by-side, so we saw the nurse constantly.  He had an IV and then later a feeding tube (with my expressed milk in it) and with all the gadgets attached to him, there was very little Damian and I could do for him.  We could comfort him if he was upset or just talk, sing, and pray over him.  We chose a life verse for him at this point, which we prayed over him, along with other verses. 

Sometimes it was very hard to see any progress.  We were doing pretty well, emotionally, until the Monday after his surgery.  We had seen no progress since Saturday, when he was alert and "talking."  On Sunday, he just slept, and by Monday, it seemed to us that he had regressed.  We had also had a rough night, with the nurses having a hard time controlling his pain, and he needed frequent suctioning of his nose, so we woke up several times to his screams.  Each time I woke up, I would just pray for Andrew until I fell back asleep again.  The respiratory therapist had also attempted to reduce his oxygen on Sunday, but had to turn it back up again because he wasn't handling it well.  The nurse said that it sounded like his breathing was diminished on his right side, the side that hadn't been operated on, but the doctor disagreed and said he sounded fine.  Still, we couldn't help but be concerned, and the x-rays were inconclusive on his progress.  The doctor said that since the x-rays were inconclusive, he would just go by Andrew's clinical appearance, which seemed fine.  But that Monday was especially difficult, because it seemed like he wasn't progressing and to us, it felt like he would be there in ICU forever. 

I prayed a lot and tried not to listen to the negative thoughts that were nagging me.  Sometimes I successfully took those thoughts captive by focusing on what was true & right (Philippians 4:8), but other times, I gave into thoughts that I might lose my baby.  It was a real battle.  An e-mail was sent out to the church for prayer, and it was amazing how much that encouraged me, as well as small things like encouraging Facebook messages and texts from friends, especially scripture.  Still, it was the toughest day we'd had yet.  But Tuesday morning, I woke up to the good news that Andrew was being moved out of ICU.  His progress was slow, but it was progress, and he was stable enough to be able to go to another floor.

We were moved to the wrong floor initially, and while we were waiting to be moved, the surgeon came by to check Andrew out.  She told me then that we'd try giving him a bottle on Wednesday.  I asked a question about how to burp him, and she looked at me with a shocked look on her face and asked if I'd been allowed to hold him.  No, I said, I sure hadn't.  She looked at the nurses in the room and said "Please, let this mom hold her baby.  She has got to hold him."  While we waited to move to the surgical floor, they got me settled into a rocker and configured the wires and cords so that I could hold Andrew.  It felt so good to hold my baby boy for the first time in five days, and I was so happy, I cried.  When I laid him down again in his bed so he could be transported, he gave me a sweet smile, his first smile since the ordeal began.  He loved the physical contact just as much as I did. 

Starting Wednesday, he could be fed, so we got to hold him several times a day for feedings, first with a bottle, and then by nursing him.  He started smiling all the time and was a very happy little boy. 

Andrew, 7 weeks old, on day 8 of our hospital stay.  We have many more pictures of him, but we're not sharing them publicly at this point.  I love his big smile in this picture, and it's actually the first picture we have of him smiling.

Things progressed very quickly after that.  His pain medications were reduced, and the main thing we were waiting on was the removal of his chest tube.  At 2:30 a.m. on Sunday morning, the nurse picked Andrew up to give him to me for a feeding, and spotted his chest tube still laying in his bed!  She and I both panicked a little bit.  It was quite frightening at the time.  If air started accumulating in his chest cavity, then he would need another tube put in.  They watched his vital signs closely and did repeated x-rays to watch his pneumothorax.  Fortunately, it did not increase, so he didn't need a new chest tube.  We were released from the hospital on Tuesday morning.

Andrew's Emergency: Surgery

This is the fourth post to fill in the details on what happened with Andrew's emergency lung surgery last month. You can read the introductory post here.

The plane touched down at Love Field in Dallas, and then we took another ambulance to Children's Medical Center.  We arrived at the hospital and quickly made our way to ICU, where a room had already been prepared for him.  His medical team was awaiting our arrival, and fortunately the RN EMT had briefed me ahead of time that he would be surrounded by doctors and nurses at once, so I wasn't too overwhelmed.  Still, it was quite surreal to step back in the ICU room and see tiny Andrew laying in his bed, surrounded by nurses and doctors being briefed on his condition by the EMTs.  They were moving fast.  X-rays were taken by a portable machine and pictures of his lungs were instantly displayed on equipment in his room so that everyone would know what they were dealing with.

I was asked to sit and a surgeon, a fellow, and then an anesthesiologist took turns discussing his surgery with me and asking me to sign papers giving my permission for surgery.  They would go in between his ribs, doing a thoracotomy, and then a lobectomy would be performed on his left lung.  The left lung has two lobes or halves, while the right lung has three lobes.  His top left lobe was the one with lobar emphysema, so it would be removed completely.  Then a chest tube would be inserted.  The remaining bottom lung would leak air and fluids until it healed, so the chest tube would drain all of this air and fluid.

When the surgeon described all of it, I was shocked.  The entire top half of his left lung?  Removed?  All of it?!?  But it was the only option. 

The surgeon's primary concern was that surgery would go smoothly and his bottom left lung would not be compromised in anyway, so that it would grow back well.  Yep, that's correct.  It will grow back.  I was floored at this knowledge.  I had no idea that lungs could do such things.  In fact, if you google "lung grows back" or "lung tissue regerates," most information will say that it does not.  Because it does not.  For adults.  Children are entirely different, and will regenerate lung tissue and alvioli until the age of 8.  I asked the surgeon if my son would have a "normal" life (whatever normal looks like).  She said absolutely.  He would have two healthy lungs and complete use of them, without breathing issues.  She said "I'm not saying he's going to be an olympic runner, but I wouldn't rule it out either."  Her words were a comfort to this mama's heart.

After my permission was given and the medical team had finished assessing him, they were ready to do surgery.  I put my hands on my baby boy, prayed aloud for him, kissed his little forehead, and they whisked him away for surgery.

Once he left, I couldn't help but lose it a little in the hallway, which made some of the nurses and hospital employees nervous, and some went on a quest for a counselor or chaplain.  I'm more inclined to think that if I didn't cry at that point, I would've needed a counselor.  I also knew that I had our pastors' phone numbers in my cell, so I could easily talk to someone if I wanted, but one of our pastors was on his way to Dallas with Damian.  Yes, I had to wait by myself during surgery, but it wasn't as hard as I would've thought.  I wasn't alone; I had the Lord.  Friends and family also called constantly, which was another way God provided comfort.  Andrew was on so many prayer lists during the entire ordeal, and many people are still praying for him now as he recovers.   

Surgery would take a few hours, during which I prayed, talked with various friends and family, and pumped.  Seriously.  Protecting my milk supply became a high priority for me, because it seemed like the only thing I could possibly do for my child at that point.  I put myself on a pumping schedule and stuck with it until Andrew was able to nurse again. 

Every hour, a nurse would call me and give me an update on Andrew's surgery.  Each time, all was well.  At this point, I was running on pure adrenaline.  It was Thursday, and I hadn't slept since Tuesday night, when I'd only gotten about 3 hours of sleep due to caring for sick kids.  Every once in a while, the magnitude of the situation would hit me.  I remember the anesthesiologist telling me that the huge hospital I was in had essentially shut down for my baby's surgery.  And like on the plane, I had the feeling that if we could just get through this, the next few hours of surgery, then everything would be OK.  It was frightening at times, but overall, I felt peace and comfort.

I also kept thinking that our baby doesn't have cancer or even something like cerebral palsay or a heart defect.  While this was a scary and dangeous situation, the Lord had given us a medical crisis that was totally fixable.  How amazing!  I feel like David:  "Who am I, Soveriegn Lord, and what is my family, that you have brought me this far?"  (2 Samuel 7:18)

Once surgery was over, I met with the surgeon.  She said everything went perfectly, and no surprises came up at all.  She described recovery and reiterated again that his left lung would grow back completely.  I still can't believe that God made our bodies to do this.  We truly are wonderfully made.

But let all who take refuge in You be glad,

Let them ever sing for joy; 

And may you shelter them, 

That those who love Your name may exult in You. 

Psalm 5:11  

Andrew's Emergency: Flight

This is the third post about Andrew's emergency surgery.  To read the introduction, click here. 

When I arrived at the hospital, we were expecting the plane and EMTs from Dallas to arrive within 45 minutes.  I stayed with Andrew while Damian went home to pack and try to nap before making the drive to Dallas. 

When the EMTs arrived, I finally felt the urgency that the situation warranted.  The team consisted of three paramedics, with one registered nurse (RN), one respiratory therapist (RT), and one who was simply a paramedic.  They walked in and began assessing him immediately.  The RT said Andrew was not moving air at all in his lungs, and also observed that the oxygen given by the nurse was not doing a thing, since his canula (oxygen tube) was in upside down.  They immediately deemed him unfit for air travel and began trying to improve his breathing so that we could make the flight. 

I could tell my baby boy was in a very precarious situation.  It's frightening to see your tiny baby propped up on a table with a medical team surrounding him, but I could also tell that they were well-equipped to care for him, which was comforting.  His heartbeat was in the 220s and they worked to bring it down.  The EMTs did a breathing treatment, a deep suction of his nasal cavities, and another breathing treatment to help stabilize his breathing. 

He was still breathing poorly and needed to be intubated for the flight, but there was quite a bit of discussion on whether they could and should intubate him.  The RN from Dallas had been in constant communication with the doctors at Children's Medical Center in Dallas, and after much discussion, the decision was finally made that while he needed intubation, it was a risk they couldn't take.  His lung anatomy was so strange that it could cause more problems and perhaps even make the situation worse.  Instead, they used a CPAP type of device to provide oxygen for him in flight.  After about two hours of prepping him for air travel, we were ready to go around 6:30 am.

We took an ambulance to the Texarkana Airport, where we connected with a private jet belonging to Children's Medical Center.  I was told beforehand that the flight would take a little longer than usual.  The EMTs asked the pilot to fly at a lower altitude.  Air expands as altitude increases, and if the air in Andrew's lungs expanded too much, it would make a dangerous situation worse.  Instead, we flew at a lower altitude and took a little longer to get to Dallas.  The ride was also bumpier because of the lower altitude, but it would be worth it.  I had the feeling that if my baby could just make it through the flight, he would probably be OK.  I called Damian just prior to boarding to tell him what a precarious situation Andrew was in, and to pray for Andrew's stability during the flight.

I boarded the flight first and headed to the back of the plane, which would probably seat about 10 people, if it were full of seats.  Andrew's gurney was in front of me, and the EMTs sat in seats on the left side of the plane.  During the flight, I mostly prayed and tried to find ways of peeping around the equipment to see my son's tiny face, just to make sure he was still OK.  The EMTs were well-prepared to jump in should his breathing change, but our prayers were answered and he stayed in the same condition throughout the flight.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,

Let this blest assurance control,

That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,

And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

It is well with my soul.

It is well, it is well with my soul.            

Andrew's Emergency: It's Not Just a Cold

This is the second post to fill in the details on what happened with Andrew's emergency lung surgery last month.  You can read the introductory post here.

One Saturday night, my husband and I both woke up hearing our 5 week old baby boy sneezing and coughing.  We both groaned.  He had picked up Isabelle's cold!  But babies get colds all the time.  I reminded Damian that Isabelle was this age when she got her first cold, so we already knew what remedies to try.

The following Wednesday evening, while we were eating at the Olive Garden, Andrew was steadily coughing, but at the end of each series of coughs, he would breathe in really strangely.  I'd never heard anything like that.  I still wasn't too concerned because it was just a cold, and I knew how to handle a cold:  steam him up in the shower, run a cool mist humidifier, use saline solution in his nose, suck out his nose frequently, and elevate the head of his bassinet to help with drainage.  I'd been doing these things for several days, so I should see an improvement in the next day.

But my husband was incredibly concerned and insisted we take the baby to the ER.  And I had to admit, his cough was pretty funky.  I could also see some indrawing at his ribcage.  That was definitely not a good sign.  After dinner, we passed by the pediatric after hours clinic, but they had stopped seeing patients 15 minutes before our arrival.  So around 9 pm that Wednesday night, I brought Andrew to the ER. 

The nurses who initially checked him out were not concerned at all, and they asked if we'd spoken to our pediatrician's on-call doctor.  No, I hadn't thought to do that.  Nonetheless, we were sent back to a room, and eventually X-rays were ordered, just in case he had pneumonia. 

Around midnight, the ER doc walked in with the X-ray results.  He said Andrew's lungs looked abnormal and he wanted to get a CAT scan to be sure.  He thought he saw cysts, but it was hard to tell.  It appeared that Andrew had something congenitally wrong with his lungs.  My heart sank at his words.  Those were life-changing words, and I felt quite a bit of fear.  I was trying to remain calm, but evidently I don't have a poker face, because the doctor repeatedly told me not to freak out.  The doctor told me it could be something minor, but we'd need to get a CAT scan to see. 

I called Damian, who was home with Isabelle, and I also texted a couple of friends to pray (it was midnight, so I notified few people).  One friend, Melissa, offered to stay at our house so that Damian could join me at the hospital.  We went back for the CAT scan and awaited the results.  While we waited, Andrew had a couple of really scary coughing fits where he seemed completely unable to breathe at times.  The nurses put him on a bit of oxygen.  We were also informed that Andrew had tested postive for RSV, so it was definitely more than your typical cold, but it was the lung defect that was really causing the breathing problems.  Eventually, around 2:30 in the morning, the ER doctor told us the results. 

He informed us that Andrew has Congenital Lobar Emphysema.  His lungs could take air in, but they could not remove it easily.  The top lobe on his left lung was ballooning up with air and was so large that his trachea and heart were displaced into the right portion of his chest.  Treatment was available, but not at our hospital.  We would be flown to a children's hospital in either Little Rock, AR or Dallas, TX.  I would fly with the baby and Damian would go in the car so we'd have a way home.  Oddly enough, I found out later that he made the diagnosis using WebMD.  Seriously.  It's such a rare condition that many doctors have not heard of it.

We chose to go to Dallas for treatment, since my oldest sister lives there, and I then left to pack a bag for myself and one for Isabelle.  We had no idea what treatment options were available or how long we'd be gone, so I was trying to prepare for everything.  I was quite scared, knowing my son had a lung defect, but I honestly had no idea just how dire the situation was.  Since we first walked into the hospital, we never felt like anything about our case was urgent. 

At home, I started yanking clothes out of laundry baskets, drawers, and closets, just throwing them in the suitcase.  My friend, Melissa, took everything out and neatly folded them for me.  I remember telling her how I felt, that this just wasn't how things were supposed to go when you have a newborn.  It's supposed to be a sweet time, not a scary time.  Right?  And I immediately thought of our friend who is battling colon cancer.  She has a 4 year old and a 1 year old.  This isn't how they pictured their life either, is it?  But this is it.  My 6 week old has a lung defect and Holly has cancer.  And none of it was a surprise to God.  None of this is outside of His hands either.  I trusted His plan for us.

I made arrangements for Isabelle to stay with Melissa in the morning, but they were leaving town on Friday.  I never really worried about where she would stay, because I knew friends would offer to keep her.  I got in the car and headed back to the hospital, where Damian and Andrew were waiting for the plane and EMTs to arrive from Dallas.

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Where did March go? Andrew's Emergency

The day of my last blog post, March 16, our family experienced the beginning of the toughest trial we've faced.  If you know Damian and I personally, you probably know a little bit about what's been going on in our family recently, but there are lots of details that weren't shared, and other readers are still in the dark.  I think I'm going to attempt to write about our family crisis.  Everyone has been curious to know how in the world my healthy baby boy ended up being flown to Dallas for emergency lung surgery when he was 6 weeks old. 

I'll try to fill in the details for you, and also for anyone else who experiences the same situation, because Andrew's lung condition is so rare that it's hard to find information about it.  I can find clinical information about it, but certainly no one's experience with their baby.  And when I look for information about his recovery from lung surgery, all I can find are the experiences of people with cancer who have had similar surgeries.  A baby heals so much faster than an adult, so these accounts aren't at all helpful. 

I've read that Andrew's lung condition, called Congenital Lobar Emphysema, occurs in 1 in 20,000-30,000 people.  Our pediatrician thinks it's even more rare than that, since none of the doctors in his very large medical group have had a patient with it, and he's been in practice for over 20 years.   

So I'll try to fill you in on what happened, but how often I blog will depend on my time, energy, and inclination.  I do think it'll be helpful for me to process all that we've gone through.  I can promise you, I will not over dramatize any of it.  The entire thing has been dramatic enough on its own that there's no need to elaborate or play up any of the events. 

God saved my baby's life.  There's no way around it.  It sincerely was a life or death situation, and we were dealing with a very small time frame.  According to his doctors, when we arrived at the hospital in Dallas, Andrew only had hours or minutes to live.  It's a reality that has only just begun to sink in now that we're back home and attempting to get back to normal life. 

Fortunately, we will have a normal life.  Now that Andrew has had surgery, during which half of his left lung was removed, he will eventually be a normal baby.  His lung will actually grow back!  The human body continues to regenerate lung tissue until the age of 8.  His breathing in his remaining half lung isn't at full capacity yet, but once it is, he should be a healthy baby, and with time, he'll have two perfectly healthy lungs.  Praise God!

This has all been so incredibly hard.  But I know that never in my life have I ever felt so loved, protected, and provided for by the Lord.  And we'll never know just how many people were praying for Andrew's little life, but we know those prayers were answered and continue to be answered.