Planted in Pearland

What's going on in the life of Covenant Community Church

Happy Birthday, Eliza! December 13, 2010

Filed under: Kids,Parenting — Sarah @ 2:15 pm

Eliza turned two about a month ago. Two. I can’t believe it.

Happy Birthday, sweet Eliza Joy.

Daddy and Mommy are so thankful for you, more thankful than we could ever express in words.

You taught us how to be a daddy and a mommy. Your cries, your squeals, your squawks, your gurgles, your smiles, your giggles and your sighs were our teachers. We didn’t know anything about babies before we had you. We are so thankful we had such a cute, sweet little girl as a teacher.

You have given us more joy than we ever knew was possible. Daddy and Mommy were on our own for a long time. It was “just us,” and we were happy with that. We had no idea what we were missing. Then we had you. And we knew. We can barely remember our lives before you. It seems like you’ve always been with us. We like it that way.

We have watched you grow in amazement. Every milestone you reach is incredible. Every day we think you can’t get any more fun… and then you do. Watching you learn and change and develop has been one of our greatest joys ever. We can’t believe we get to be on the front row seat of that show for the rest of our lives. What a delight.

We love you, sweet girl. Daddy and Mommy love you so much. It’s not possible to tell you how much because words aren’t enough. So we try to show you how much we love you. Every tickle, every hug, every smile, every meal, every prayer, every bath, every discipline, every cuddle, every correction, every book we read, every song we sing, every diaper change, every rebuke, every kiss. We hope it communicates how much we love you. Sometimes, the message comes across loud and clear. Sometimes, because Daddy and Mommy are sinners, the message is muddled and confused. Sometimes, a different message comes across completely. But we keep trying. Because we want to make sure you know you are loved.

More than anything, we want you to know that God loves you. Daddy and Mommy’s love isn’t anything compared to God’s love. Daddy and Mommy mess up at loving you because we are sinners, but God’s love is perfect. You see, God loves us so much that he sent his Son Jesus to die for us. Jesus died. He took the punishment we deserve for our sin. Then, he rose again. Jesus defeated Satan, sin and death. Through faith in Jesus, we can be saved from our sin and freed to follow Jesus with all our hearts.

That is real, perfect love, baby girl. Daddy and Mommy try to show you that kind of sacrificial, radical love, but we fail every day. We keep trying, by God’s grace, praying that God will use our poor example to show you the truth about His real, perfect, amazing, holy love. That is our greatest prayer for you, precious girl, that you will understand God’s love,  your own sin and believe in Jesus for salvation.

Eliza Joy, each day with you is a blessing. Daddy and Mommy are continually amazed that God would be so kind as to give us the privilege of being your parents. The past two years have been more wonderful than we could possibly have imagined. You are so precious to us. We are so grateful to have you in our lives.


Daddy and Mommy


Finally, Jude’s Birth Story! August 19, 2010

Filed under: Kids,Parenting — Sarah @ 3:33 am

Warning: this post is ridiculously long

I woke up on Saturday morning July 3rd at 8am with some pretty uncomfortable hip pain. I didn’t think anything of it at first because at 38 weeks pregnant, I always had some sort of achiness or discomfort going on. I figured I had been lying on one side too long, switched sides and went back to sleep. However, this pain would subside and then return, again and again, regardless of how I positioned myself. So I decided to time the pain just to see. Sure enough, it was coming about every 5 minutes. However, I had never heard of hip pain in labor before, so I was not convinced it was labor. I got up and googled “hip pain labor,” and I found a discussion board with a few women who claimed to have experienced hip pain in labor before, so I texted Tim and told him I thought maybe I was having contractions (he was at a men’s theology breakfast) but not to rush home because I didn’t think it would last.

By the time Tim got home, they were still coming every 5 minutes. The only way to describe the pain was that it felt like someone was trying to twist my hips apart. It wasn’t unbearable or anything at that point, just really very uncomfortable. Tim asked if I had called our doula (a birth coach/labor assistant). I hadn’t because I really thought it was false labor. Well, by about 10:30a, with the contractions still coming consistently, Tim called our doula. She said she thought it might be the real thing because of the consistency but was also confused about the hip pain, so she came over the check on me. Meanwhile, Tim called my parents and asked them to come over and help with Eliza so he could focus on helping me with the contractions.

While we were waiting for our doula and my parents, I was trying all different labor positions to relieve the pain. At one point, I was on my hands and knees on the bed, rocking my hips back and forth. Eliza came in and wanted to get on the bed with me. Tim put her on the bed, and she crawled right underneath me, laid on her back, looked right into my eyes, and with this big grin on her face, tried to put a cheerio in my mouth. It was like she was saying, “Here, Mommy, eat this. It will make you feel better.” It was so adorable. Even through the contraction, I had to laugh.

My folks arrived and took over Eliza duty and a little while later our doula came in. She checked me, and I was only 3cm. After making sure the baby’s heart rate and my blood pressure were all fine, she suggested a few positions to try to get the baby to move (thinking maybe the hip pain was being caused by the baby sitting on a certain nerve or something). She also encouraged me to eat something, since up until that point, I had only had juice all day. She said she’d come back after lunch.

Well, I ate a sandwich, walked around the house, tried different positions and did my best to rest between contractions. I also figured I better take the chance to take a shower while I was still at home. That felt amazing. The shower helped so much with the pain, I didn’t want to get out! By the time I did get out though, our doula had returned and checked me again. Still 3cm. And the contractions had actually stretched out- they were about 5-7 minutes apart now. We tried everything to make them kick up a notch- walking, squatting, pumping. Nothing.

Finally, our doula regretfully informed us that this looked a lot like false labor- regular contractions with no cervical change. After checking the baby’s heart rate and my blood pressure again (all was well), she left, advising us to just eat some dinner and go to bed early, taking something to help us sleep if we could. By now, I was pretty discouraged. I had been texting “my girls” all day, keeping them updated and asking them to pray, so I sent out one more text asking them to pray that the labor would either pick up for real or stop completely- I was getting annoyed with the consistent hip pain, especially since it didn’t appear to be accomplishing anything. A little while later, a friend called and was so sweet and encouraging. She told me all about her experience with false labor during her fourth pregnancy and gave me some good advice on how to deal with it. Mostly, hearing her story gave me the second wind I needed- I had been getting grumpy and annoyed and wanted it to be done.

We ate dinner with my parents and Eliza- I ate another sandwich since it was all I thought I could keep down. We put Eliza to bed around 7:30pm and explained to my folks that we were just going to take Benadryl/Tylenol PM and go to bed ourselves. We told them we thought it was false labor, so they were free to go home if they wanted, or they could sleepover in Jude’s room if they wanted to. They decided to stay “just in case” (which I was fine with, but I was convinced by now that nothing was going to happen, so I thought they were just being too concerned). So, Tim took 2 Tylenol PM, I took a Benadryl, and we went to bed. Tim was asleep in minutes. I lied there and tried to sleep/rest as much as I could between contractions.

Eventually, around 9:30pm, I had a contraction unlike any of the others all day long. It was still concentrated in my hips but was WAY more intense. I figured it was a fluke, but a few minutes later, I felt it again. Then another one. They were so intense, I could barely breathe through them. I knew I needed help. I woke up Tim and asked him to call our doula and then help me with counter pressure and focus on breathing.

Our doula said this sounded like it could have finally kicked into the real thing and asked if we wanted her to come over or meet us at the hospital. I figured we might as well know for sure if it was real before we went to the hospital. So Tim woke up my parents to let them know what was happening, and he helped me with breathing and counter pressure until our doula got there. She checked me, and I was 4cm! Finally, the cervical change we had been waiting for! We quickly changed and left for the hospital at around 11pm.

On our way to the hospital, Tim called the on-call doctor to let him know we were on our way. I was doing my best to breathe through the contractions, but sitting in the front seat made the pain in my hips even worse. I remember looking at the clock and asking Tim if he thought the baby would be born before midnight. Tim kind of chuckled and said, “I doubt it.” “Well,” I said, “looks like we’re gonna have a 4th of July baby after all.” (My refrain for the previous several weeks had been, “I don’t care when he comes, as long as it’s not the 4th of July.” Well, surprise, surprise 🙂 Isn’t that the way it always goes?)

We got to the hospital at 11:30pm, and I walked up to the maternity floor. The nurse  who greeted me asked me to get on the scale then said, “Now, honey, are you here for a c-section or normal delivery?” I remember thinking she was totally insane. Did she really think I would have let the contractions get so bad if I was planning on a c-section? I remember squeaking out, “Normal,” between contractions, so she took me into triage, had me change, etc. Then the doctor came in to check me- I was 6cm! From 4 to 6 in less than an hour!

After a seemingly endless list of questions, the nurse took me into a labor and delivery room and told me my nurse would be in a minute. When my nurse came in, she explained that she wanted to get the heart rate monitor on me in order to get a 30-minute strip with the baby’s heart rate, and if all was well, I could get up, walk around, get in the shower, etc. I looked at her all confused and said, “You know I’m a VBAC right?” She said she did. I explained that my doc had said I would have to have continuous monitoring. She said she would just do the 30 minute strip and if all was well, she would just check every 15 minutes. I wasn’t about to argue. I didn’t want to be confined by the monitor anyway.

I sat on the birthing ball for 30 minutes while they monitored the baby’s heart rate. Our doula was so helpful in reminding me how to breathe, and Tim was praying and whispering to me encouragingly. After 30 minutes, baby’s heart rate looked fine, and my nurse said I could get in the shower or whatever. The hot water felt so good on my back and hips. I just sat there, breathing, moaning, taking each contraction as it came. Tim was standing right there, and I kept hearing him say, “You’re doing great, babe, you’re doing great.” Our doula would tell me what I should be feeling, ie. “Tell me when you feel…XYZ.” Then when I would feel it, she’d say, “OK great, tell me when you feel…XYZ.” It was so helpful in breaking the labor up, kind of like setting smaller goals throughout. Throughout the time in the shower, though, the contractions kept getting more and more intense. I finally looked up at one point and told our doula and Tim, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” Just as I said this, our doula told me the nurse had just come in to let me know that my doctor was going to come in to deliver once I was at 8cm, so she wanted to check me and see where I was. This was the boost I needed- I had been thinking this whole time that my OB was out of town (it was fourth of July weekend after all), so it was a real pick-me-up to know she would be there to deliver after all!

Getting on the bed to get checked was the worst part of the whole thing. I kept begging to get up- the hip pain was unbearable while I was lying on my back. I had two contractions while she was doing the exam, and it was awful. However, after she was done she said simply, “You’re complete.” I was so confused, “Huh, what? What does that mean?” I will never forget the kind of joyful, half-laugh that our doula did when she said, “Sarah, that means, you’re 10cm, you’re done, you made it, you’re there!” I could NOT believe it! It was just before 2am, we hadn’t even been at the hospital 3 hours yet, and I was ready to push.

Now, it gets crazy: I had to wait for my OB. She asked to be paged when I was 8cm… and here I was 10cm, ready to push. My nurse went to call her, and I asked how long it would take- by now I was feeling the urge to push. My nurse said, “Oh, she lives really close by, it usually only takes her about 20 minutes or so.” I remember thinking, “There’s no way I can wait that long!” I kept telling our doula, “I have to push!” And she just calmly kept breathing with me, helping me to cope with the urge. Finally, my nurse came back in and said, “OK, let’s do a few practice pushes before the doctor gets here.” And I’m so glad she did- pushing is hard. I didn’t realize there was a right or wrong way to push until we started practicing. I was so bad at it at first. First, I let my breath out in a scream. Then, I held my breath the wrong way, up in my cheeks. Then I was pushing toward the wrong point. Our doula kept coaching me with the breathing, and my nurse kept helping me understand what I should be feeling during pushing, and I finally I got the hang of it.

After a bit of practice pushing, my nurse was like, “OK, hold it, we have to wait for the doctor.” Apparently, he was getting close. Just then, my OB walked in. She quickly observed the situation and left to get scrubbed in. It couldn’t have taken her more than 5 minutes, but the whole time, I was just begging for them to let me push. They kept telling me to wait for the doctor. When my OB walked in all scrubbed up, my nurse told her my water had not yet broken. The doc said that was OK, she’d break it. Well, she didn’t have to- almost as soon as she said it, it broke.

Finally, doc said I could push when I was ready. I was more than ready to be done with this by now, so I closed my eyes and concentrated on all the instructions I had been given/was being given. The doc directed me to push harder/softer/faster/slower, etc. After about 10 pushes, maybe fewer than that, she said, “Mom, open your eyes.” As she said it, I opened my eyes and saw my son being born. She took him and immediately put him on my belly. The baby nurse scrubbed him furiously, and he cried and cried. I couldn’t believe I was holding him, staring in his face, watching him cry.

With Eliza, I remember hearing her cry and being so thankful for the sound, but because she was delivered by c-section, I couldn’t hold her right away. They took her to the baby station to work on her and then Tim had to hold her while I was being closed up. With Jude, he was immediately in my arms. I was cuddling him, holding him, staring at his sweet face so close to mine, when he had been inside me just seconds before. It was amazing.

In the days that followed Jude’s birth, I would often just stare at him and another wave of awe would wash over me as I remembered how he had entered this world. God is so kind; it was all by His grace.

There are so many things I am thankful for when it comes to this delivery, there were so many answered prayers:

  1. Most obviously, I had prayed for a healthy baby and healthy mom, regardless of the manner of delivery.
  2. I had prayed that I would be able to have a successful VBAC. While I was grateful for my c-section with Eliza (in that it provided a way for her to be born safely when she was in distress), I wanted to avoid another major surgery if I could. I am thankful God provided a doctor who would allow me to try a VBAC and that by His grace I was able to delivery normally.
  3. I had prayed that Jude’s heart rate would stay strong the whole time and that my water wouldn’t break until the very end (Eliza’s falling heart rate was the reason I ended up with a c-section, and it fell even more once my water was broken). BOTH of these things happened!!
  4. I had prayed I would be able to handle the pain of labor. I’m not really in the pro-natural childbirth camp. Really, truly, I’m not. Until my pregnancy with Jude, it was something I had never seen myself doing. Never, never, EVER. I admired women that went drug-free, but I had always said I wanted the drugs. As far as I was concerned, there was no reason to go through that much pain if I didn’t have to. However, as Tim and I discussed VBAC and everything that was riding on it being successful (finding a doc who would let me deliver normally after two c-sections would be pretty much impossible), I just felt that I wanted to do everything within my power to make sure it “worked.” I didn’t want to end up back in the OR and wonder if it was the epidural or any other intervention that had put me there. So… that left me with the natural childbirth option. I was scared of the pain; I didn’t think I could handle it. But God provided a fantastic childbirth class with an amazing teacher (who was also our doula!) to help prepare me for what I would experience. He provided some sweet friends who had done the natural thing who talked to me about their experiences and their ways of coping with the pain. And then He provided me with a wonderful birth team in Tim and our doula. There’s no doubt it was the worst pain I’ve experienced in my whole life (I definitely had moments of shouting, “help me, someome please help me” … and I think I yelled at Tim once “you have to DO SOMETHING!”) but mostly the tools I had been given, coaching I received, allowed me to make it through. I did it, and I could never have done it without them!
  5. I had prayed Tim would be able to handle seeing me labor. My husband is wonderful. He loves me and cares for me so well. As such, he hates seeing me in pain. Even something as small as a headache causes him to feel bad for me, want to help, want to “fix” it. I was afraid he would not be able to handle seeing me in pain for hours and not be able to “fix” it. But, he was amazing! He was my rock and my encourager for all those hours that we labored at home together- helping me breathe, get in different labor positions, applying counter pressure, encouraging me when I got discouraged. Once we got to the hospital, his whispered prayers and encouragements were incredibly helpful as I concentrated on getting through each contraction. He did an amazing job!

Honestly, it really just could not have gone any better. God is so good; it was all truly only by His grace. And I am so grateful.


Introducing… July 10, 2010

Filed under: Kids,Parenting — Sarah @ 3:11 am

Jude Timothy Ganger, Born July 4th, 6lbs 14oz, 19in long

Simon Coe Davis, Born May 22nd, 7lbs 1oz, 19 1/2in long

Here is a sweet, fragrant mouth to kiss; here are two more feet to make music with their pattering about my nursery. Here is a soul to train for God; and the body in which it dwells is worthy all it will cost, since it is the abode of a kingly tenant. I may see less of friends, but I have gained one dearer than them all, to whom, while I minister in God’s name, I will make a willing sacrifice of what little leisure for my own recreation my other darlings had left me. Yes, my precious baby, you are welcome to your mother’s heart, welcome to her time, her strength, her health, her tenderest cares, her life-long prayers! Oh, how rich I am, how truly, how wondrously blest! – Elisabeth Prentiss


Can I even call it “suffering?” May 18, 2010

Filed under: Learning,Parenting — Maggie @ 8:58 pm

A couple of weeks ago, my one year-old son, Shepherd (pictured below), was waking up at 6am for several days in a row. His usual wake-up time is around 7:30, and in the Lord’s kindness, he’s been back to “normal” for the last week or so. It has been quite a relief from the unwanted 6am wake-up call. That said, I know that  he will very likely go through a waking up early phase again, perhaps even next week. I’ve been thinking about what my response to this unwanted wake-up call should be. Certainly, it should not be angry grumbling or a spiteful attitude that takes pleasure in letting him cry for 30 minutes while I refuse to get him out of bed. (You should know that I’m not opposed, in general, to letting him cry, just the attitude with which I do it.)

To my shame, both of these things have characterized my heart and my response.

Instead of acknowledging that this “light momentary affliction (and I do mean “light!”) is preparing for [me] an eternal  weight of glory beyond all comparison (2 Cor. 4:17), I have been frantically trying to fix what I deem to be a problem. I even took him to the doctor in the middle of it all to rule out an ear infection. (Confession: I really wanted it to be an ear infection that explained the early wake-up). Unfortunately (or fortunately), he got a clean bill of health, and I’m sure the pediatrician thought I was a crazy, paranoid new mom since Shep was giving her smiles and giggles the whole time she examined him. I left kind of embarrassed but trying to justify that I did it for his good rather than as a desperate attempt to explain and then fix something that is uncomfortable to me – an early morning wake-up call.

So now, knowing that he was perfectly healthy, I have been trying to think through how I have failed to respond in a godly way to this trial and what needs to change in my heart in order to respond differently. Why am I so quick to want to fix anything that makes me uncomfortable? Why is my first response anger and frustration when things get in the way of what I want – in this case, an awake, crying baby getting in the way of my desire to sleep.

Obviously, I am not believing that this is happening for my good and that the Lord is in control of it. Rather than agreeing with James 1:2-3, which says, ” Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance,” I am anything but joyful. I do not think rightly about suffering – I just want it to go away. I know this is because I don’t really understand what Paul means when he says in Romans:

More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.”  Romans 5:3-5

“The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him. For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” Romans 8:16-18

I want to embrace any form of suffering (even an hour less of sleep) with joy and the hope of heaven always before me. Having an unexpected early wake-up call should serve as an opportunity to thank the Lord for producing endurance, character and hope in me. I want to embrace it as discipline and yield the peaceful fruit of righteousness from it (Heb. 12:11).

The Lord is merciful to be showing me my sin and teaching me this now, with “suffering” as minor as a 6am wake-up call.



Filed under: Learning,Parenting,Random — Sarah @ 8:06 pm

I love watermelon. It’s the perfect, refreshing, delicious, sweet, summery fruit. When I was a kid, we ate watermelon almost every day during the summer. We’d be playing in the sprinkler or at the neighborhood pool (which we also did almost every day), and my mom would bring out a plate of ice-cold, freshly sliced chunks of watermelon. We would dig in; it would drip all over our faces and suits, but it didn’t matter because we’d just hop right back in the water! Yum and fun!

So, filled with those memories, I impulsively I bought a watermelon today at the grocery store (it was NOT on the list :). And you know what I’ve realized? Watermelon is a pain to cut. I mean, you REALLY have to work for it, especially if you want to “chunk” it, which is my favorite way to eat it. After spending most of Eliza’s nap slicing and chunking this massive watermelon, I have to admit, as much as I love watermelon, I’ll be tempted to bypass it next time I’m in the store thinking “Oh, it’s too much trouble” and go buy some grapes instead.

But I hope my next thought will be, “What if my mom had done that?” If she had, we kids wouldn’t have the water-playing-watermelon-eating memories that we have, and I probably wouldn’t enjoy eating watermelon as much as I do. It’s in the simple moments like this that I’m reminded – I’M the mom now, which means now I have to do things that I don’t necessarily like to do for the benefit of my kids.

The Bible talks about this. In Philippians, Paul tells us to “consider others better than ourselves” and to “look not only to you own interests but also to the interests of others” (Phil 2:3&4). I am grateful that, because God is so gracious, I can apply this truth to something as simple as cutting up a watermelon for my family to enjoy… And I’m thankful that I have a mom who modeled it for me first!


Sick Baby Part 2 November 26, 2009

Filed under: Kids,Learning,Parenting — Sarah @ 7:24 pm

Joy called a couple days into Eliza’s illness. We kind of chatted about this and that, housekeeping stuff about our ladies book study, Thanksgiving travel plans, whatever. She kept going back to Eliza, and I soon just started crying and telling her how sad I was to see Eliza like this, how I felt like a bad mom, etc. She was kind, gentle and sympathetic, asked some “experienced mom” questions about taking care of a sick baby, affirmed how hard it is to deal with an ill child, then said, “Well, let me pray.”


She asked God to heal Eliza’s body, grant her restful sleep for recovery, comfort from the pain, etc. Then her prayer turned to me. She asked God to remind me of his sovereignty in the midst of this illness, that he would grow me and change me through this trial and that I would be aware of his hand at work through it all.


This is exactly what I needed to hear. I realized I had made this trial all about me- what I was or was not doing to care for my daughter and how sad I was about her being sick. I had not even considered what God was doing through the illness or what he wanted me to learn. After God mercifully, through the prayer of a friend, turned my thoughts away from myself and onto him, he brought to mind many truths from his word for me to meditate upon.  I’ll share one with you.


“For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God” (Romans 8:19-20).  Our world is broken- from my daughter’s relatively mild childhood disease to all the deformities, decay, death, calamity, tragedy that surround us, we are constantly reminded that our world is not as it should be. 


Why is this? Sin. This goes back to Genesis and the garden. Do you remember the punishment God gave Adam and Eve  for their sin? He cursed Adam’s body with sweat and the ground with thorns — his body would have to labor with difficulty to bring forth food from the ground. He cursed Eve with greater pain in childbirth. Notice that God cursed Adam and Eve with physical pain even though their sin was a moral problem. Physical suffering and turmoil, then, must be a signpost for how horrible sin is.


I know that I am not emotionally outraged at my own sin- I rarely hate or respond in any kind of emotional upheaval when I sin. In contrast, as I learned during Eliza’s illness, I am an emotional wreck when confronted with physical pain or disease, especially my child’s. God taught me that as much as I hate my daughter being sick, as sad as I was to see her ill, I should be even more quick to hate and be even more greatly saddened at my own sin. Yes, Lord, let this be true in my heart. Praise God for the faithful words and prayers of a friend and for truth from his Word to inform my circumstances. God is good.


**John Piper’s sermon “Where is God?” from has been incredibly helpful for me in developing a biblical framework for trial and suffering**


Sick baby Part 1 November 24, 2009

Filed under: Kids,Learning,Parenting — Sarah @ 5:17 am

As any mother will tell you, having a sick baby is no fun. I found out exactly how not fun sick babies are this past week. Eliza had her first “real” illness (that is, something other than the obligatory runny baby nose), a nasty little virus called hand/foot/mouth disease. Now, on one hand, it is nothing short of miraculous and a sign of God’s great mercy on our family that Eliza made it to a year old without having an illness like this. I do genuinely thank God for her amazing health. On the other hand, the fact that she made it a year without illness did not make her first bout with illness any easier do deal with.


I found myself so sad for my precious baby girl.  She is naturally so happy and smiley, and she would try to muster up that beautiful smile just to dissolve in tears the next second. She would just cry and cry and look at me like, “Something’s wrong, Mommy, fix it.” Of course, as I found out and much to my dismay, when dealing with a viral illness, there is nothing to be done to “fix it” – it’s a matter of giving motrin/tylenol on a schedule to try to relieve the symptoms, trying to give lots of cuddles for comfort, and in Eliza’s case, watching a lot of Baby Einstien for distraction.


I felt so helpless. I wanted to do more to help my baby girl feel better, yet there was nothing more I could do.  I wanted to fix it, make it right, make her well, but it was not within my power to do so. Without realizing it, this line of thinking led me into a swirling vortex of self-pity and unbelief. “I’m a bad mom.” “Why can’t I help my baby?” “Why isn’t she getting better?” “I can’t even get her to eat anything but popsicles, what kind of diet is that for a sick baby?” Fortunately, God, in his abounding mercy and grace, did not see fit to leave me there for long….