Motherhood & Parenting

Miss Severed Fingers Is Whole Again!

Our family has great news: Miss Severed Fingers is whole again!  It’s been a little over two weeks since her calamitous encounter with a folding chair wherein one finger was dangling by the skin and another was sliced through the bone.  These fingers, however, haven taken nicely.  A couple of days ago she had all sixteen stitches removed.

It was quite the ordeal, though, having those sixteen stitches yanked out.  Miss Severed Fingers screamed bloody murder during the entire clipping and tugging, especially when the doctor had to forcefully wrestle with the ones stuck in her nail beds.

We had a very sympathetic nurse, whose job it was to hold sharp-looking implements for the doctor.  She kept smiling and crooning, “Oh, Honey, you’re doing such a good job!  Just a few more!”  Whereupon Miss Severed Fingers wailed even louder, and I snickered and interiorly rolled my eyes.  Doing a good job?  Humph.  Four-year-olds.  Everyone in this hospital is wondering what kind of hellish operation is happening in this back room.

But I did my part to console The Poor, Afflicted Thing too.  I said, “Honey Babydoll, calm down!  I’ll buy you a lovely coffee afterwards!”

The Little Dear quickly turned her teary, blue eyes towards me, and whimpered, “Really?”

“Of course, Honey.  Coffee fixes nearly everything, you know.”

And so that’s what we did.  After her little fingers were re-bandaged, we drove straight to Moka Coffee.  Miss Severed Fingers ordered an iced vanilla latte; I had a hot cappuccino with a much deserved extra shot of espresso.

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What a Honey.

Notice the delectable donut?  The Coffee Check-Out Lady was so impressed with Miss Severed Fingers that she even threw in the donut for free, along with a tootsie roll.  For you see, Miss Severed Fingers rolled her window down from the backseat and stuck her damaged digits out for the Coffee Lady to admire.  She even graciously wiggled them too.

Then we drove to the Post Office.  She showed her bandaged extremities to the Post Office Lady, and you guessed it, the Post Office Lady was mighty impressed with her cuteness and gave her two suckers–one for each afflicted hand.

Oh, what a day!

Motherhood & Parenting

Paul’s in Surgery Right Now

Dear Readers,

I am once again asking for prayers.  Yesterday Paul began vomiting due to a migraine.  Immediately my heart leapt and then raced.  My husband and I began packing, for we knew it would end in surgery.  We called our priest.  He came over immediately and anointed him.  Our entire family made our confessions and prayed the rosary.  Shortly thereafter, I drove Paul to the ER in Rochester.

And what were my thoughts?  What were my feelings?

I had recently been meditating on Isaiah 48, and in particular verse 12, “I am He, I am the first and I am the last.”  I am He.  God is so great and so powerful.  He orders all things for good, and He will take care of us.  I must rest in His will, even if it means watching my son suffer.

While in the ER, in the dead of the night, in between trembling in pain and vomiting, we trusted in Jesus.  And we even witnessed His joy in one of the ER doctors.  She came in, looked at Paul with kindness and asked, “Do you know Jesus?”

My son smiled, and she smiled.  “He cares for you.  Stay close to Him.”

And so we are.  Paul’s in surgery right now, which will likely last 3-4 hours.  His spinal shunt had slipped out of his spine, causing fluid to buildup on his brain.  His doctor is very hopeful that by replacing it with a new one, Paul will be well, once again.

Keep us in your prayers.  I hope to send an update on him in a day or two.

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Paul in the ER last night.  He’s praying for the souls of 3 people who have died recently.

 

Call Me Catholic

Yeah, You’re a Strict Catholic

I brought the baby into the doctor’s office yesterday.  She had an ear infection, and I had an interesting conversation.

As the doctor was entering his information into the computer, he said, “Wow, you have 7 kids!  You must be a strict Catholic.”

This seemed out of the blue.  Apparently my baby’s computer file must keep track of those things.  Then he said with a smile and a smirk, “I guess you had to have all those kids, huh?”

Now I’m used to snarky comments about the size of my family, but this ticked me off.  Why should I have to put up with his condescending, vitriolic pompousness?  I didn’t comment on the size of his family, implying that he’s a dope.  So I reached across the baby sitting on my lap, and slapped his smug face.

Ok, no, I didn’t do that.  But I did say, “Yes, we wanted all these children.”

He calmly said, “Oh yeah, I suppose you planned them all too?”

What the hell?*

“Natural Family Planning does work, when you actually monitor and chart your mucus.”  (Yeah, I said that.)

At this point, the look on his face completely changed.  He blushed, cleared his throat, and said, “Uh…I guess the other doctor here at this clinic wants to bring in a nurse trained in Natural Family Planning because she’s so busy with all her NFP patients that she can’t keep up.”

It’s true.  I knew that doctor was swamped with women wanting her assistance.  So I replied, “Yes, it’s fascinating–the woman’s body.  We studied the Creighton Model.  You might consider learning too?”

“Hmmm…”

“This isn’t your grandma’s version of the ridiculous Rhythm Method.  This stuff actually works.”

Then he said something awkward about my husband’s “swimmers” always seeming to find their way (weird), and I just sighed as he quickly slunk out of the room.

Why do I mention this incident?

Of course I couldn’t slap the guy.  That never wins people over, but of course I also couldn’t remain silent.  A wise priest once told me that if someone else is going to “go there,” then by all means, go there with him.

In other words, if someone is going to comment on my family size, then maybe I should go there too.  Just because you think 7 children is nuts and overwhelming, doesn’t mean that I do.  Or, just because you’d rather watch TV in your bedroom, doesn’t mean that we’d rather do that.  You wouldn’t believe what some people say.  “Get a TV!  Don’t you know what the pill is for?”  Or, “Don’t you know how that happens?”  Come on, people.  Be a little open-minded.

Or open-hearted?  As a matter of fact, we didn’t specifically plan each of our 7 children; God did.  My husband and I knew what we were doing, though.  Many of you may not be familiar with Natural Family Planning (NFP), but it’s not that complicated.  I simply chart when I’m fertile by monitoring my cervical mucus.  Yes, it sounds gross, but it works.

So while we may not have specifically “planned” to have, for example, this last baby, we did choose to have intercourse on a fertile day.  We knew the consequences.  But our hearts were open.  Open to God’s plan–His providence–with all it’s heartaches and joys.

And my heart has become bigger and softer with the birth of each child.  And I am so thankful.  So thankful.

 

 

*I just thought that.  I apologize for the foul language.  It’s a sin, and you should pray for me.