Easily the highlight of our weekend was the special visitors that came from Iowa!
Victor and Josiah reveled in the fun play time with Hudson and Dell and Auntie Betsy and Auntie Lori. It was quick but delightful!
Saturday, October 24, 2015
Iowa Visitors
Easily the highlight of our weekend was the special visitors that came from Iowa!
Victor and Josiah reveled in the fun play time with Hudson and Dell and Auntie Betsy and Auntie Lori. It was quick but delightful!
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
My Best Birthday Gift
Flashback to September. Birthday wishes and kindnesses were very sweet.
But my best birthday gift came two days before my birthday, when (honestly, to my surprise) an efficient technician zoomed in the ultrasound view and detected a precious little heartbeat still fluttering away inside.
* * *
After our miscarriage in June, we were thrilled, elated, delighted, overjoyed, grateful, amazed, and humbled to find ourselves pregnant in August. Again, I suspected right away that something was stirring, but it was a gut-wrenching day-by-day wait, peppered with frequent alarm that the movement had stopped, that I would lose this little one again before we even began to know him.
Finally, a positive pregnancy test. I started feeling gross a week later. And almost three weeks later, an ultrasound, which (somewhat to my dismay) showed that I was not yet even 6 weeks pregnant. But, there was a tiny slow heartbeat, barely detectable.
Both my little boys' pregnancies were survived on Zofran, right up to heading to the hospital. So I waited nervously for the "gross" to turn to "incapacitating" ... but it stayed at just a low-grade gross, according to my earnest prayers for the past many months that God might allow me to come through this pregnancy without such intense sickness.
Day by day slowly passed. (It felt like I spent this whole summer waiting for 6-weeks-pregnant to arrive.) The daily grossness was a reassuring reminder of the reality inside.
And then Tuesday night, in the middle of dinner with company.
Blood.
A flood of memories. Reliving the painful days of June in an instant.
After we said our good-byes to our guest, I just sank into our big blue chair, too drained to move. A call to the ob office.
Rest tonight, and come in for an ultrasound tomorrow, she said. It may not be another miscarriage.
It was a night-long wrestling match between prayers, fears, threads of hope, and the crushing reality that always, always before, blood means no baby.
I called the office twice at 8:00am, and finally at 8:01am they turned off their answering service and I could at least wait on hold. The nurse couldn't find an opening for an ultrasound and needed to call back after she talked to the techs.
I texted family and the friends who already knew about the baby and waited. An 11:00am ultrasound appointment.
I arrived 10 min early and sat in a full waiting room. Minutes passed, and the room emptied little by little. It was perhaps the longest, hardest, loneliest wait I've had in a doctor's office.
And I dreaded hearing my name called. Dreaded the finality of seeing on the screen a still small body, absent of life.
Psalm 121.
Psalm 34.
Psalm 96.
Isaiah 41:10
Jeremiah 29:11
Fragments of verses and prayers and songs.
I was starting to feel woozy, my half bagel for breakfast too long past. Do you have any crackers? I asked the receptionist. I'm feeling light-headed.
A few saltines later I felt better and ready to face the next step. Even if today is a sad day, I believe there will be happy days ahead. This is not the end of the story.
11:30am.
11:40am.
"Amy," at last the white-clad technician came for me. She did not smile or make small talk. "So, when did the bleeding start?"
"Last night."
I took a deep breath, looking at the large blank screen facing the reclining table, the screen which would soon reveal ... life or death.
She didn't speak as she began the scan. I watched the screen, trying to pick out a little dark mass which would be our baby.
There it is.
So still.
There should be movement, should be a little flutter there.
My heart sank. So still.
No movement.
No movement.
Then she adjusted her instruments, zoomed in on the little mass. And like a miracle, I thought I saw something move.
She adjusted again. And there, as beautiful a sight as I have ever seen, was a quick, rhythmic flutter.
She measured the little peaks and valleys.
167 beats per minute.
My eyes full of tears, my heart full of gratitude.
167 beats per minute.
* * *
And that, as I knew with greatest certainty, was all the birthday gift I could ask for.
But my best birthday gift came two days before my birthday, when (honestly, to my surprise) an efficient technician zoomed in the ultrasound view and detected a precious little heartbeat still fluttering away inside.
* * *
After our miscarriage in June, we were thrilled, elated, delighted, overjoyed, grateful, amazed, and humbled to find ourselves pregnant in August. Again, I suspected right away that something was stirring, but it was a gut-wrenching day-by-day wait, peppered with frequent alarm that the movement had stopped, that I would lose this little one again before we even began to know him.
Finally, a positive pregnancy test. I started feeling gross a week later. And almost three weeks later, an ultrasound, which (somewhat to my dismay) showed that I was not yet even 6 weeks pregnant. But, there was a tiny slow heartbeat, barely detectable.
Both my little boys' pregnancies were survived on Zofran, right up to heading to the hospital. So I waited nervously for the "gross" to turn to "incapacitating" ... but it stayed at just a low-grade gross, according to my earnest prayers for the past many months that God might allow me to come through this pregnancy without such intense sickness.
Day by day slowly passed. (It felt like I spent this whole summer waiting for 6-weeks-pregnant to arrive.) The daily grossness was a reassuring reminder of the reality inside.
And then Tuesday night, in the middle of dinner with company.
Blood.
A flood of memories. Reliving the painful days of June in an instant.
After we said our good-byes to our guest, I just sank into our big blue chair, too drained to move. A call to the ob office.
Rest tonight, and come in for an ultrasound tomorrow, she said. It may not be another miscarriage.
It was a night-long wrestling match between prayers, fears, threads of hope, and the crushing reality that always, always before, blood means no baby.
I called the office twice at 8:00am, and finally at 8:01am they turned off their answering service and I could at least wait on hold. The nurse couldn't find an opening for an ultrasound and needed to call back after she talked to the techs.
I texted family and the friends who already knew about the baby and waited. An 11:00am ultrasound appointment.
I arrived 10 min early and sat in a full waiting room. Minutes passed, and the room emptied little by little. It was perhaps the longest, hardest, loneliest wait I've had in a doctor's office.
And I dreaded hearing my name called. Dreaded the finality of seeing on the screen a still small body, absent of life.
Psalm 121.
Psalm 34.
Psalm 96.
Isaiah 41:10
Jeremiah 29:11
Fragments of verses and prayers and songs.
I was starting to feel woozy, my half bagel for breakfast too long past. Do you have any crackers? I asked the receptionist. I'm feeling light-headed.
A few saltines later I felt better and ready to face the next step. Even if today is a sad day, I believe there will be happy days ahead. This is not the end of the story.
11:30am.
11:40am.
"Amy," at last the white-clad technician came for me. She did not smile or make small talk. "So, when did the bleeding start?"
"Last night."
I took a deep breath, looking at the large blank screen facing the reclining table, the screen which would soon reveal ... life or death.
She didn't speak as she began the scan. I watched the screen, trying to pick out a little dark mass which would be our baby.
There it is.
So still.
There should be movement, should be a little flutter there.
My heart sank. So still.
No movement.
No movement.
Then she adjusted her instruments, zoomed in on the little mass. And like a miracle, I thought I saw something move.
She adjusted again. And there, as beautiful a sight as I have ever seen, was a quick, rhythmic flutter.
She measured the little peaks and valleys.
167 beats per minute.
My eyes full of tears, my heart full of gratitude.
167 beats per minute.
* * *
And that, as I knew with greatest certainty, was all the birthday gift I could ask for.
Saturday, October 10, 2015
Announcements, announcements
The Katterson boys wanted to share some news.
Praising God for another precious gift, joining the Katterson family (Lord willing) in April 2016.
Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning (Ps. 30:5).
Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning (Ps. 30:5).
Friday, October 9, 2015
Fun in the Fall
Bedtime Bible stories with Dad
Lots of fun with friends at the zoo
Fire station open house!
Checking out the ambulance...
So many lovely days to play outside
This weekend's treat: a quick visit from Grammy and Grandad!
Friday, October 2, 2015
18 Months Old!
18 months old!
1 year old
11 months old
10 months old
10 months old
9 months old
8 months old
7 months old
6 months old
5 months old
4 months old
3 months old
2 months old
1 month old
2 weeks old
Dear Josiah,
You are a baby no more. You are an exuberant small boy! You have two speeds: running and sleeping. And you are growing and learning so much!
These days, you:
- Give wonderful commentary from the backseat while we drive along. We'll take a corner, and you'll exclaim, "Turn!" We pass the airport, and you say, "Bye, plane!"
- Your "loveys" are much beloved. Two handmade blankets and two teddy bears are your favorites, and many times a day you will bring your teddy bear to me and say, "Hi, bear!" so that I can greet him also (albeit he is generally kinda slimy and wet).
- You are definitely learning from your big brother. One day we were driving to church, and Victor had his duck on his lap. Since Duck couldn't be buckled in, Victor held onto him extra tight. He said, "Look, Duck, here are my big muscles!" (so that he would not be afraid, of course). I looked back, and there you are, Josiah, with your two little fists up too, showing your big muscles!
- You love turtles. Whether they be illustrated in a Richard Scarry book or swimming around in the fish tank at the doctor's office. Sometimes, you just think about them, and exclaim, "Turtle!"
- You are currently very into Pop-Pop. We have a recent photo book in the living room, and approximately a hundred times a day, you request to see Pop-Pop's photo. And it is only acceptable if Mom holds the book open to the appropriate page indefinitely (or until you decide to go explore something else).
- You love apples! We are so blessed to have an apple tree in the backyard, a crabapple tree in the front yard, and an apple tree in the school across the street ... all of which have been much enjoyed this fall. You can man your own apple quite skillfully, and you eat it down to the core!
- It is always a bit of a surprise if you will march over to your brother and wallop him on the head or give him a gentle, tender snuggle and a kiss. We are praying for more of the gentle kindness and less of the wallops.
- Victor has introduced the new "Katterson Amen," in which we give an exclamatory fist pump when we say A (pump) -men (pump)! Even when I tuck you in at night and give you your blessing in the dark, you'll grin and give your fist pumps at the right time.
- You're still taking 2 naps, about an hour in the morning and about 2 1/2 hours in the afternoon. Bedtime is 7:15pm, and you're generally up by 6am.
- Favorite foods include crunchies (any of a variety of cereals), pretzels, cherry tomatoes (from the bush by the school across the street), apples, and any form of "treat."
- You enjoy songs, pianos, and dancing, and find it difficult to wait quietly when there is a break for announcements during the worship time at church.
- You enjoy your Sunday school class and Bible study class and have never made any complaints about them. But you still give great whole-body-kicking snuggles when we pick you up.
- You love to give high 5s and fist bumps. If someone starts a fist bump, you will travel to all the people in the vicinity to give your own fist bump.
You're a bundle of energy and a bundle of joy.
Once again, I pray this verse for you, my son:
The eyes of the LORD move to and fro throughout the earth, that He may strongly support those whose heart is completely His. 2 Chronicles 16:9
May your zeal be given to Jesus and your heart follow hard after Him all the days of your life!
We love you!
Mom
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