Believe

I try to tone down most things Santa-related this time of year...except for this. I adore the Santa we take our boys to see. My boys have visited with him every year they've been on the planet and he keeps even me believing in the innocence that is the essence of Christmas. Here's a peek at this year's keepers~

Pure Joy

My First Christmas

Good Enough

My Babe

Dear Matt,

Well here we are. 10 years later. Tomorrow marks a decade of married life together and I just have to let you (and the world) know how much this anniversary means to me.

Truth be told, we've now spent half of our lives together. Who would have guessed 16 years ago those two kids having their spectacular first kiss under the stars in the chilly canyon night would turn into an eternal family. Oddly enough, I think something in us knew. Why else would we have been so patient, so steady, so non-high-school-like with each other through those early years? Remember how we used to say, "This feels like forever"? It still does.

Knowing you are the love of my life is an impression that grows stronger every day. I truly want to be with you ALL the time. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I can't think of anything I do that isn't better when you're there. You are a gift to me.

Have I told you that I think you are the best dad in the world? Our boys adore you. This past year I have seen you love them, fight for them, protect them like the hero they think you are. You love them, you teach them, respect who they are, and include them in so much of what you do. They know they are important to you. You don't just tell them that. You show them. And it's that example that will make them into fathers just like the one you are. There is nothing that would make me more proud. They hold you on a pedestal and you earn it--day in, day out.

We have grown what feels like a lot older and a lot wiser this year when it comes to understanding things that really matter. Your support, your love, your knowing looks, and calm hugs have saved me. You have taken what was good about us and helped make it great. I would not have survived this roller coaster without you. You are not my rock; you are my mountain.

I want you to know I am happy. Really deep down in my soul happy. You are a HUGE part of creating that happiness and constantly reminding me where to find it. Thank you for sharing your life with me, for being a true partner in every sense, for respecting me--flaws and all, and for helping me see so much goodness all around us.

I love you in more ways than I can express and look forward to so many more years of us getting to know each other. I chose you. And I choose you every day. I feel so blessed that God chose us.

Forever yours,

Mindi

Happiness is...

McKay may have finally turned the corner today. Hooray! Instead of whimpering his way through the day, giving a few good hours of full-bodied crying, his expressions today said "pick me up," "hold me this way, not that"; the type of protests more in line with his peer group. Ahhh. My baby is on his way back.

Of course I cannot speak for his darling Aunt and Uncle who had to endure his most vocal protests of the day for the short while we ran out to Matt's firm Christmas party tonight. Of course. Is two hours really enough time to even notice we're gone? Apparently so. Our fail safe? Put him in the tub until we get home. It's true. McKay has spent a disproportionate amount of his life afloat. There must be some school of thought out there that argues exposure to water as a method for lifelong happiness, right? Thanks for the bath Aunt Hil.

We also came home to some special Christmas surprises. A gorgeous fruit basket (Thanks Robyne and Spencer!) and an anonymous "Christmas Jar" mysteriously left on our front porch. We were so taken back by the gift of the jar, I'm not sure I'm fully ready to share what it is and the amazing spirit it brought into our home. Let me just say that we discussed the meaning of the word "sacred" tonight with our children and agreed as a family to pray about how we should use the jar. Amazing. Just amazing. To whomever left the gift, your note would have been enough. I was moved on many levels. Thank you for trusting us with this new and exceptional tradition. We will honor it.

As for the promised details of our check up yesterday, there is much to celebrate. First let's hear a "whoop, whoop" for 87. That's McKay's new O2 level when he's on his own. We couldn't even get him him into the 70s on a full liter of oxygen two weeks ago. Now that's getting what you paid for! Well done miracle workers.

McKay's chest xray was clear except for the twist-tie looking fasteners that hold his healing sternum in place. I had to smile thinking these were the kind of xrays little boys would love to take to show and tell. I will look forward to that day for McKay. Mostly, the xrays check for fluid build up in the lungs and chest cavity. No fluids holding Mr. McKay's heart back, thank you very much.

Next, the EKG. We had to laugh at our ham. Here was a baby that had cried pretty consistently for days prior to his appointment. But you would have never known it for all the smiles and shy looks he gave his nurse as she placed twelve sticker-backed patches on his chest, hooked up probes, and then removed the stickers. He smiled through the entire thing. Really?

In any event, the consensus is that McKay will stay on a few drugs for the months to come to assure he does not retain fluid around his heart or in his lungs. But that's it. No more oxygen. No more tubes. And we don't have to go back to the hospital until February. February!

I called Matt at work today just to tell him the joy I felt picking McKay up out of his crib and walking out of his room, down the stairs, wherever we wanted without having to lug, trip, and bumble over those awful tanks and tubes. We felt free. And it made me smile.

I got a call earlier this week from a friend of a friend whose baby was just diagnosed in utero with different, but similar congenital heart defects. It felt good to talk to her, to say out loud what a blessing this experience has been--and mean it. To tell her to hold on to her positive attitude and expect the best. To understand the fear she's feeling and try to do what I can to bring some peace into her heart. To tell her to come meet McKay when she's ready and see what 14 pounds of hope looks like. I think she will.

We will never be the same and I don't think we ever want to be. It's on days when we call each other just to say we're happy. Or scared. Or distracted. It's on those days where something special and permanent hangs in the air between us. We all feel more connected somehow. To each other. To our neighbors, friends, and family. To strangers who have shared similar experiences who we now call friends. Really, this experience has brought so much and taken away so little. It's funny--we spend our entire lives planning the details of our future when really it's the experiences we could have never expected, and most definitely would never hope for, that truly end up making us what we are. And tonight, we are happy.

Double Take

We've been doing double takes of McKay all day and must agree....we like the tube-free look! His post-op check up went amazingly well. He has maintained weight at 14 pounds 1 ounce, turned in a perfect chest x-ray, and passed his EKG. All unimaginably difficult tests for our chunky monkey, but he seems to make everything look easy. The reward? No more tubes!!!! I'd say more...but there are cheeks to be kissed...more details on our fab day to come. :)

Waiting on the Magic

I'll admit it, the snow helped. But I have definitely been in a Christmas funk the past week. I think it started while I was trying to put away some of the boys' toys. As I tried to shove the Lego box back into its place on the toy shelf, I felt sick thinking my boys could not possibly have need for one more overpriced, plastic, thinga-ma-jig destined to be dropped, stepped on, or otherwise destroyed followed by a fit of tears as to how that was their favorite toy ever. And yet I have another obnoxious stash of bright, shiny plastic thinga-ma-jigs all ready for Christmas morning. Where in the world will we put them?

Friday night a strand of lights on the tree went out causing all the subsequent strands to fail--not good. Sunday Matt managed to find the strand, remove it and get what was left of the lights working again--good. When I asked if he would replace the strand, he claimed no one would notice the dark spot on the tree--whatever.

McKay has cried for three days. It is really beginning to get to me. The boys have learned just to ignore it and shout over him. Matt read bedtime stories to the boys last night over McKay's screaming and said no one seemed to notice. Poor dears -- the older boys for having to live like this and poor McKay for feeling this way. The only thing that seems to soothe him is a shallow bath. But you can only let your baby float for so long! He gets too cold too quickly any way since he can't have any water on his belly yet. So out of the bath he comes and resumes crying until he's either held in the perfect position or falls asleep. I'm told his headaches should end soon--I sure hope so. At times he absolutely claws at his eyes as if he's trying to attack whatever is causing him such pain. Maybe they'll have some suggestions at his check up tomorrow.

But today as the winter sunshine streams through the window and warms my back, I can feel my heavy heart warming to the season, too.

The boys have so many toys because they are adored by family that spoil them rotten as every child should be. And I am SO thankful for family. I will teach them to part with some of their treasures and bless others with their abundance.

The Christmas lights go out because we are fortunate to have a gorgeous tree dripping in ornaments fashioned in preschool classrooms or carried home as souvenirs from an envious array of vacations. I am blessed with a decorated life.

My baby cries because he is alive. There was a time not so long ago when my heart ached to hear him cry. I swore in the moment of his first struggling cry almost five full days after he was born, I would never take hearing his voice for granted. And although we are blessed with audible evidence of his presence in abundance now, I am grateful his fired up little body is firing on more cylinders than before. Be comforted little one.

So the magic may come in spurts instead of a steady flow this year, but it will come. How could it not? Our life has been nothing but a steady series of miracles, our home is full of children dazzled by all things Christmas, and we feel the steady love of the Savior for which the season is celebrated. Chances are most of you will not get a Christmas card from me this year. For that I am sad. But I cannot apologize for all the other priorities that have taken their place securely in front of that Christmas tradition this year. Maybe next year we'll get back to the busy things that usually make up this season for me, but for now we're focusing on quality over quantity; perspective over pressure. A different Christmas, indeed.

Some Thoughts

My mind has been flooded and rather overwhelmed with thoughts on charity this week. This is probably not a shock to the many of you who have shown tremendous charity to our family over the past few months. Truth is we’ve been on the receiving end of some of the most sincere and simple acts of charity I know. And I won't sleep tonight until I put pen to paper on some of my random revelations. (This would be the more-for-me-than-you part of this online journal :). )

Take the box pictured at the top of this post. It is chock full of activities for me to do with my kids while we’re on lockdown with McKay. A dear friend dropped by out of the blue a couple nights ago at the crescendo of a long day. Play dough, music, coloring books, fruit loop necklaces, you name it; it’s in there. My kids practically hyperventilate until it’s time to open the “Present of the Day.” It gives us something to look forward to, something to get excited about, something to talk about other than why I can’t take them to the zoo, the aquarium, the store. Instead, they want to stay home and exhaust the surprise activity at hand. And of course it is all that much more exciting because it is not from mom. As my friend explained the box over McKay's screaming, I cried. She cried. She came in and held my (in that moment) sad little babe for five minutes so I could show some love to his older brothers and help them get PJs on. Then she left as gently as she came. An absolute angel. Can you imagine how unbelievably grateful I am for her?

And the kindness continues. I was introduced to the concept of the "porch visit" today by another friend. A highly charitable activity. The best I can explain it is this--It’s kind of like when the prisoner comes to the special desk partitioned with Plexiglas and picks up the phone to visit with whomever is on the other side. Only porch visits are better because you can give that I-understand-what-your-going-through-and-it’s-all going-to-be-okay hug at the end of your chat. And you don’t have to wear the orange jumpsuit. Huge bonus.

Add that kind of love to the phone calls, meals, babysitting, and presently non-reciprocal car pool, and the prayers; the many, many prayers--it all adds up to overwhelm a girl who usually feels very uncomfortable receiving such kindnesses. I think most of us do. No one likes to be the “charity case.” We’d all prefer to give the help, make the meal, be the genius who comes up with the box of activities for the kids (seriously!). But the epiphany that has come to me today is that not only do I need to be more aware and proactive about meeting the needs of others around me; but why would I ever discourage any form of charity (read: pure love) in my life?

The simple clarity that is mine to share is this—If Christ himself showed up at my door and asked me if I would like Him to perform miracles for my family, would I ever turn Him away? NEVER. I would fall at His feet, welcome Him in, and beg Him to stay. What I understand very clearly today is that He doesn’t have to come. Instead he has sent an army of angels to surround our family and share His love. So many of you are those angels. Please understand I know whose errand you’re on and I do not take it lightly. I will spend the rest of my life paying your kindnesses forward; so aware that I don’t need the okay from someone to serve them. I just need to serve Him. And He will let me know what needs to be done.

I cannot adequately express the way my testimony of so many things has grown this year. But in this season where we all soften our hearts a bit and turn our thoughts to a small baby that changed everything, I cannot help feel a bit of a parallel in my life. I am humbled. I am grateful. I am in awe. There is so, so much to be thankful for.

Back to Life

Last day at the hospital; relaxing and watching Baby Einstein.

On my way home with my "I might be little, but I'm tough"
t-shirt. And boy is he.

Sorry we've been slow to post, but I am now trying to do what a team of people were doing for little Mac last week. Factor in the sometimes-helpful-and-always-entertaining help of his two big brothers, and we're a recipe for what would be a highly-entertaining reality show. Not sure what we'd call it, but real life doesn't get more real than us these days.

Mr. McKay came home with a small cocktail of drugs to keep him on the mend over the next 10 days. We are still experimenting to find the right balance of pain meds for our little guy. We're not fans of the loopy, glassy-eyed look and his new this-really-hurts cry is too much for a momma to bear. I think we're getting close though--he seemed pretty comfortable most of the day today and spent most of his awake time as his smiley self. He will stay on oxygen until his final post-op checkup on the 10th. Apparently at our altitude, the small flow of O2 he's on gives the heart and pulmonary artery enough of a rest to make a difference in how well they heal. We can definitely do 10 more days if it means stronger working parts.

The poor little man looks like a battlefield. I just can't think about what he's been through for too long or I lose it. It's one thing to see his incision. That scar we expected. But his entire chest, both wrists and ankles, and his neck are absolutely pock marked with small scabs from IVs, tubes, and sutures. I'm sure the smaller marks will go away, but they are there now and for some reason it's those tiny marks that are the hardest for me to take.

But at least we are home. Every little trivial thing today felt wonderful--the dishes, the laundry, hauling out all the Christmas mess. The kids are so excited and their million questions about Santa, his elves, the sleigh, and Ty's constant quizzing of Preston as to the true meaning of Christmas have flooded the house with the magic of this glorious season. As we put up the tree tonight and took the goofiest pictures of the three of them together I knew I already had everything I need this year right there under that tree. Awesome.







Of course, if I were to get something it would be a vacuum. Not just any vacuum; a Dyson DC14 Animal. Oh how I've had my eye on that pleasantly purple dream of a machine. Well guess what was waiting for McKay and me when we piled into car to come home on Saturday?...my Dyson! I mean McKay's Dyson. My whole play for the sucking wonder over the last few weeks has been centered on how important it could be for McKay's health to have the world's most amazing vacuum in our home. Apparently that worked for Matt. Love him. Love welcome home presents. Love my Dyson!

All in all, McKay continues to amaze. He is truly stronger than I am in so many ways. And if we continue to be slow to post it's because I am typing with one hand and holding him with the other. I may never let go again. Much love to all.


Our thoughts and prayers are with the Christoffersen family tonight who suffered the tragic loss of their amazing father today. He was a hero to our son as his Sunday school teacher last year~and his example as a sweetheart and father will be always remembered and sorely missed. Thank you for sharing your love with us.