The Write With Light Project

There is nothing quite like the experience of walking into a children's hospital. It feels like a sacred battleground. I'm sure walking in as a visitor feels different than walking in as a parent…and I envy what it must feel like to walk in as a nurse or doctor, ready and equipped to go to battle.

Inside those walls, I will often just sit and stare and try so hard to stretch my imagination far enough to move the veil and see what God sees inside those walls. Just like the hillside in 2 Kings, I would bet the hallways of a children's hospital are absolutely full of angels fighting all kinds of enemies, and comforting all types of patients.

God has not opened my eyes like I wish He would — but he has shown me over and over and over again pieces of the army He has provided for us. Every time I get an encouraging text, and offer to help, a prayer said on behalf of all of my children — I feel like I can almost see that army fighting my battles for me.

We are completely humbled by the help we have received. Four years ago, when we received Sunley's diagnosis, I began planning a fundraiser, called The Write With Light Project, to benefit a very special piece of Sunley’s team. The details have changed about a thousand times since she was born, and I'm doing my best to simplify it all with everything going on now, but I feel like it's time to deploy the army that God has built for us.

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Texas Children's Hospital is the very first hospital dedicated to opening a “Fontan Go Initiative.” This will be a whole new sub-specialty of medicine that will fall under the umbrella of ADULT congenital cardiac care. Adult CHD care has not existed as a specialty until now, because only just now are these kids finally reaching adulthood! This Fontan Go Initiative will be the only place in the world focused solely on patients who have had a Fontan procedure and have lived into adulthood. The research and experience from this could DRASTICALLY improve Sunley's quality of life, as well as its length. It's hard to even put into words how absolutely magnificent this is for the future of kids like Sunley. Single ventricle heart defects are extremely rare — Sunley's specific anatomy is one that I can't even find on Google — and yet this hospital is dedicating an entire team to helping these kids. If that's not an army of angels, I don't know what is.

Will you please help me help my baby? On July 22nd and 23rd, 2022, I will be hosting a simple lemonade stand in Edmond, Oklahoma to raise money for this Fontan Go Initiative. All of the profits will be donated to this work. Will you please sign up to host a lemonade stand on July 22 or 23 in your town? When you sign up to host, you will be sent a “box of sunshine” containing all of the branding materials you need to market in your area and get the word out.

If you are unable to host your own lemonade stand, will you please share this video (below) and blog post with the world? We will also have ways for people to donate, as the fundraiser date approaches. My hope is that we could have a few stands going up all over the place in July, and with just a few people committed to making this fundraiser work, we could really make a difference for the futures of Sunley, and of every kid like her. Click here to sign up.

Click here to share the video.

Birthday Plans

Our Cath procedure is schedule for Wednesday August 11, my birthday! Woot. Due to covid tests and other consults, we need to be there August 9 (evening) through August 12.

The other 3 will stay at Tonya's house while we're away.

Hospitals are in a very bad spot right now, and this is a terrible time for anyone to be needing care, but here we are. They don't have a bed for her to stay on the 11th, so unless she's in very bad shape, we were told that it will be outpatient but we need to stay close by the hospital.

The hope is that during the Cath, Dr Qureshi will see a problem that needs fixing -- we are hoping that there are some collateral vessels causing issues. If so, our hope is that Qureshi will be able to coil those off, and this will hopefully result in higher saturations for now. If this happens, we will plan for a fontan surgery in the spring.

If the cath does not find a solution, then we will be having a difficult discussion with Dr Heinle, the surgeon, about what's best -- a fontan now when the hospital is like it is or a very diminished quality of life until the spring, not to mention a very risky flu season for us. I have no idea what he will recommend. Please pray for the doctors, nurses, and all of the scheduling staff. They are absolutely flooded with daily difficult decisions, and I wouldn't want to be in their very under-appreciated shoes.

Prayers. Somehow it will all come together.

MRI and Cath Date

Welcome to our roller coaster. If this post is messy, it’s because I am still processing our news, while also parenting, and all the things. I am a mess but I have such peace. My husband is an absolute rock of a man and never waivers. We have an ARMY praying for us. And God is so present, always. I made a blog update last night at 11pm, but forgot to post it. Since then, everything has changed. Below is the original update, and below I will update with the latest since this afternoon. I think this is a good glimpse into how quickly we are always ready for things to change around here:

Update as of August 3rd:

Our biggest news this week is that we have a date set for our MRI and Cath: September 22nd! This was the soonest we could get this scheduled, and I’m relieved with the fact that it gives us a minute to figure things out. The team at TCH worked hard to make this happen. To minimize her procedures, we got the MRI and Cath teams on the same schedule — Sunley will be put under and intubated for the MRI next door to her Cath room. Once the MRI is done, they will open the suite doors and roll her into the cath room where Dr Qureshi (a favorite of ours!) and the team will perform her cath. I have some more questions for her doctors about the cath, but my understanding is that they will be checking her pressures to make sure she is a good candidate for the Fontan procedure, which we fully expect. Dr. Qureshi might also coil off some collateral vessels if Sunley’s heart has developed more of them. I’m actually not sure why we are doing an MRI, so I will ask her cardiologist when we speak next — I’m assuming it’s just so Dr. Heinle and the surgery team can get an extra-accurate picture of her heart before they get in there. I had to set up a dental exam for Sunley here, get a clearance form, and had to get her a prescription for one dose of amoxycillin to take before the dental exam. All of this scheduling was a series of phone calls, leaving messages, etc. I was very thankful that day for helpful and polite scheduling teams!

I have been slowly trying to take on a few more day-to-day tasks that have “fallen by the wayside” over the past month-plus. We’ve started a light homeschooling load and will ease back into that routine, and I’m trying to take on a bit more housework. It’s funny how these things become so burdensome when such a big life change is thrown at me. I’m sure some people can probably keep up with these things better than I can, but I’m giving myself a lot of grace in these areas for now (and being SHOWN a lot of grace by anyone that stops by for a visit!). Everyone has advised me not to worry about these things for now, and I will gladly accept that advice! It truly has allowed me to slow down and focus on only the highest priorities right now. The other night, after planning to cook dinner, I just didn’t have the grit to do so, and I went by the drive-through at Panera. It’s a little pricey for our family of five eaters, but I did it anyway. Of course, when I got to the window, I was informed that the driver in front of me paid for my order because “God is good and He always provides.” Shocker. Thanks for the wink, Lord.

He always provides. Yesterday, I was feeling a bit overwhelmed with all the tasks that absolutely must be done before we leave next month for Houston. I was considering quitting yet another thing I had volunteered to do for the new school that my big two are starting in a couple of weeks. As I was thinking about it, I got a text message from a new friend that read, “Hey, don’t you have some responsibilities coming up with Cimarron? Would it be helpful if I took those over for you?” Pre-heart mom Liz would have said “Thanks, but I can do it!” But God has taught me (SHOVED me into learning) to accept help. What a friend He has sent me. And we have had so many helpful offers and words of encouragement just like her’s. Seriously, the sweet favors and encouraging texts, cards, and phone calls are too many to list. You know who you are, God knows who you are, and we thank you. He always provides.

Last week, another dear friend, Anna Brown, who is on her own journey of mothering rare, sent me a message on Marco Polo specifically to encourage me with this verse from 2 Corinthians 4:

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellence of the power may be of God and not of us. We are hard-pressed on every side, YET NOT CRUSHED; We are perplexed, BUT NOT IN DESPAIR; Persecuted, BUT NOT FORSAKEN; Struck down, BUT NOT DESTROYED — always carrying about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body.

For we who live are always delivered to death for Jesus’ sake, that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. So then death is working in us, but life in you. …

[We] know that He who raised up the Lord Jesus will also raise us up with Jesus, and will present us with you. For all things are for your sakes, that grace, having spread through the many, may cause thanksgiving to abound to the glory of God.

THEREFORE WE DO NOT LOSE HEART.

Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of GLORY.

What purpose our suffering, any level of suffering, can have if we just empty ourselves and let God move. Deep sorrow. Deeper joy.

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OK, now for the update as of this afternoon:

This morning, I left messages for Dr. Heinle’s surgery coordinators, as well as our cardiologist, Dr. Ayres. Ayres called me this afternoon, and explained a few things:

First of all, the MRI was ordered by the cath team, not cardiology, in order to reduce Sunley’s lifetime exposure to radiation, since we know that she will always have medical things like this in her life. That’s a good thing of course, that TCH is thinking about the big picture for our kiddos and reducing those exposures where they can — but in this case, getting MRI and Cath on the same schedule is the reason it was put off until late September. Sunley’s cardio team doesn’t feel that it would be wise to wait that long for intervention, so we are canceling the MRI and moving the cath date way up. I am waiting on a call back from the Cath team to reschedule this. It could be very soon, so we are very much in limbo. (And I am regretting having dental work and a temporary crown done yesterday, because I’m not sure how I will fit in getting a permanent crown put on, and this temporary one was kind of a disaster and my dentist expects it to fall off and…I digress!) All of the “I guess it’s good we get to wait until September” and all of the bucket list planning, post Fontan vacation planning, Davis’s birthday party…all planning is just gone.

Now for the second part of the update. Sunley’s surgeon suspects that she has some damage caused by the sickness she had back in June when all of this started. He also noted that it’s possible that by doing the cath (in which they might be coiling some collateral vessels) and by giving things a bit more time to heal, Sunley’s numbers may come back up well enough for us to wait for the Fontan until next year.

What a roller coaster. I thought I was going with the flow, but now I’m purely liquid. I have absolutely no control and no illusion of control. I have no idea what to pray for. Of course, we want to wait if we can! What an incredible answered prayer that would be! But seeing how much a minor virus knocked our girl down makes us very nervous for this flu season — not to mention the incredibly high number of RSV cases happening, and of course, as always, COVID. We also can not rent an apartment until we know if we are doing surgery, and can’t really make plans for school, for our homebuild, for our kids, Et-freaking-cetera.

Regardless of what happens, God is moving our story along in ways I did not expect. I have a battle song always playing in my soul, and this news that the Fontan may get put off again certainly feels like God is saying MOVE, MOUNTAIN. Pray with me, please.

The Waiting Game

While we wait for a phone call with cath and surgery dates, we sit in this weird limbo of preparing to prepare. I think one of the hardest parts of being in the medical world is all of the waiting. It is nauseating, like falling from the most beautiful view, but slowly and with nothing to catch you on the way down. I'm glad that Sunley has a team at TCH that truly advocates on her behalf. The hospital is VERY full, but I know they will get her in. The reason for the waiting is that they are trying to get surgery and cath on the same page, and that can be tricky. Sunley is 29 pounds, and 30 is the preferred minimum for the Fontan, so no hold up there. The cath will determine if her heart is a good candidate for the Fontan, which everyone expects to be the case. TCH does not do fontan procedures during flu season, so that's part of the rush in getting it now.

I still can't really believe this is happening. But each day, I have a choice to dwell on the negative aspects of it all, or just suck it up buttercup and make the best of it. The more I let go in prayer, the better I feel.

Today, I went shopping for decorations and play activities for her hospital room. It's a very difficult wave of emotions to describe, picking out all these adorable little girl things while picturing the images we’ll be seeing. It feels so lonely walking around a store with no one there who knows what is happening inside my spirit. I suppose it feels similar for anyone grieving any sort of loss, and I often wonder if strangers around me are suffering too. God has done some really incredible things through my (not so) random interactions with strangers.

One of those interactions happened just a couple months before the pandemic. It was December of 2019, and flu season, so we were pretty quarantined. One Monday mid-day, I decided to take the kids to the mall. I knew it wouldn't be crowded at all, and a change of scenery sounded wonderful. We ate at the food court, and there were only about 2 or 3 other families there. One of those families sat near us, and asked me how I came up with Sunley's name. I told her that her middle name is Summit, which came because of a Bible verse that popped into my head when we received her diagnosis. This mother of two asked me more questions about Sunley's health, and listened so intently. She them told me that she was born in the early 80s with a very rare heart defect, and had a transplant when she was 11. She was now an adult living with that same transplanted heart. This woman started pouring into my soul all kinds of deep and wonderful advice about parenting a young girl with a serious health issue. I won't share all of the details, but her advice was beautiful and personal, and incredibly encouraging.

Someone, I dare you, try and tell me that God did not orchestrate that. Oh, how He loves us.

Tuesday night, after getting the news from Houston, I sat on my porch for just a few minutes while the sun was going down. And just as I expected, God sent me pink clouds, rustling leaves, a beautiful cardinal, and a whole fleet of fireflies. Oh, how He loves us.

So I can walk these aisles of toys giving temporary joy, aisles full of kids who aren't in the hospital, and I can do it with gratitude and joy — because as He cares for these strangers, He also cares for me.

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