My parenting prayer.

Sunday, July 24, 2016

These photos were taken on our happy family vacation last month on the eastern coast of North Carolina. "Vacation," of course, is a loose term with a preschooler and a toddler in tow, but we savored the family time away from our normal commitments and work.

Our babies are growing like weeds. Liam is quite intelligent at 3 and a half, using words like "exasperated" and pulling things apart just to put them back together again. His energy is endless and consumes most of our energy as parents. I must answer 100 questions a day. His enthusiasm for life  is contagious. This fall he'll start soccer, and I think it'll be a great fit. 

Lanie (18 months) is sweet as pie, sings "Holy, Holy" on repeat, and toddles around with her belly about 5 inches ahead of the rest of her body and some sass in her step. Just her presence brings our family so much delight.

Even at this stage, it's so easy to play the comparison game in parenting. What preschools should I consider? Are we reading to them enough? Am I planning enough brain-stimulating activities? Do we spend enough time outside? It's exhausting. 

This morning, I read through Colossians 1 and was convicted and encouraged by the Holy Spirit to hone in on what truly matters as Liam and Lanie's parent. I plan to memorize this so that in those moments where I question if what I'm doing is enough, I can remember these words that bring truth and life. 

From Colossians 1:9-12:

Liam and Lanie,
"We continually ask God to fill you with the knowledge of his will through all the wisdom and understanding that the Spirit gives, so that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and giving joyful thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of his holy people in the kingdom of light." 

What a prayer! What hope! When I bring myself back to Scripture and find such a clear picture for what we truly desire for our kids, it's easy to cast the other things aside. Just this morning, I watched Liam gently brush Lanie's hair, and I heard him ask if we could help the homeless person on the side of the street. I watched Lanie pick up her toys just as I'd asked. I'm beginning to see tiny seeds sprouting - gentleness, kindness, self-control, love, joy - that show me that Jesus is bearing fruit in their lives. 

Life as mommy and nurse.

Wednesday, May 25, 2016

If you have a toddler and a preschooler at home like I do, I don't have to tell you that our days are packed. From the moment Liam and Lanie are awake, we're juggling the day like spinning plates, shuffling between play dates and storytimes at the library and Costco runs and trips to the park. When we're home, we manage nap times and snacks and attempt to keep our living room (and really, every room) from looking like a war zone. Let's be honest: life with two little ones often feels like a war zone. There's pushing and crying and spills and tantrums and stinky diapers... all at once. There have been times I've run into my bathroom and closed the door to just have a couple minutes alone, only to hear two little pairs of feet tracking right behind, begging for Mommy on the other side of the door.

On the days that I work as a nurse, our babysitter arrives 30 minutes before I have to leave so I have a rare, uninterrupted few moments to put on my scrubs and mascara and gather myself before the next 9 hours begin. On my 12-minute drive from my house to the hospital parking garage, I often sit in silence. I take deep breaths and even think a few complete thoughts during the quietest part of my entire day.

A few minutes later, the elevator doors open onto the fifth floor. There's always a flurry of activity on the floor, whether it's a family member standing at the desk with a grimace on her face or a psychiatric patient screaming out from his room. I work on a busy medical floor where all of my patients carry a different diagnosis and diverse needs.

Just the other night, I had a particularly heavy patient load, with patients whose rooms were spread out on every corner of our unit. I dashed between rooms, delivering medications, repositioning patients in bed, wiping sweat from my forehead. One of my patients was nearing the end of her life, her bed surrounded by teary-eyed loved ones, as I monitored her oxygen levels and did my best to kept her comfortable. Another patient was vomiting violently. Another had just been transferred from the ICU and had multiple wounds that had soaked right through the dressings. My fourth and final patient - a mostly independent woman who was there to receive IV antibiotics - called out to the desk and told the secretary she needed to see her nurse right now. So I finished emptying a bucket of vomit, made sure my dying patient was still breathing, and hustled down to the end of the hall.

I could feel the heat of her anger from the door.

"You're exactly who I wanted to see," she fumed.
"How can I help you, ma'am?"
"How am I supposed to eat this sandwich? It's dry as cardboard."
"I'm sorry about that, ma'am."
"Well, can't you at least get me some mayo?"
Take deep breaths, Whitney. Deep breaths.
"No, I'm sorry but we don't carry mayo on the floor and the kitchen is closed."
"Well then HOW am I supposed to stay here with this kind of care?"

Her face was burning bright red, ready to shoot smoke out of her ears like a cartoon. And I, standing next to her bed, was either about to laugh or about to cry.

After I sent the nursing assistant to try and remedy the issue, I ran into the supply closet for a fleeting moment to bury my head in a pile of split gauze and keep from crying. I knew she was just complaining about mayo, but with serious issues going on with my other patients and an exhausting day with my kids, I was done. I couldn't handle one more question, one more demand, one more putrid smell or sticky spill. I sighed heavy. I. Can't. Do. This.

And that still, small voice (or, the Holy Spirit) whispered back: "You're right."


My head snapped back as I was hit with truth that, nope, of course I can't do this. I can't do it alone. This load is far too heavy and the needs too great for any one person to handle it all without Jesus. And as trite as that may sound, it's what my soul needed to hear in that moment. It's what my soul needs to hear more often than I'd like to admit. I need him. Every. Hour.

Practically speaking, what does that look like? For me, it looks like seeking Jesus. Seek him in the morning, even if it's 5 minutes in his Word before you hear your little ones calling out, or a few minutes on your knees, asking him to bless your perspective on the day ahead. Recognizing you need his power, his wisdom, his strength is just the first step. Resting in his finished work on the cross is the next. There's a peace that can only come from being in constant communication from him, and it's something I miss out on all the time. One of the very best practical things I've done recently is to be more intentional about memorizing Scripture. I'm working on Romans 8 right now because it's so foundational to our faith, and also so comforting.

In those moments when it all feels like too much, the Lord draws this out of my memory bank and slips it into my heart:
"I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us." - Romans 8:18

As a nurse, I bear witness to so much suffering. The 22-year-old newly diagnosed with HIV, a life that will be presumably infection-ridden and cut short. The 45-year-old mother of two whose breast cancer has metastasized to her brain. Hard, gut-wrenching stuff that begs the question, "Why, God?"

But I also catch glimpses of his glory that will be revealed. My children's lives bear witness to God's glorious creativity and joy. Some of my patients wait patiently and cling to hope in God even in the most dire circumstances. I'm a witness to some of the most beautiful, resilient souls housed in bodies that languish in hospital beds. I see miracles every single day.

Hug a mommy today. And if you know one, hug a nurse. If you're reading this and you fit both categories, I wish I could reach through the screen and hug you right now. Your callings are downright demanding in every way, but I believe the Lord has given you these holy tasks and has prepared you in every way for them. If he wasn't with you and for you, you wouldn't still be standing.

Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens. - Psalm 68:19


Wednesday, April 13, 2016

First of all, your encouragement after the last post has been such a gift. Thank you. I was hesitant to share it with the world, but am so grateful for your kind, heartfelt responses.

I'm now a month out from the miscarriage, and I thought I'd share a few things that have helped me to heal both physically and mentally. Perhaps you or a friend is dealing with recovery even now. Maybe you'll file this away for the future. In any case, I hope it's helpful.

In the first week after the D&C, I just felt off. I'm not sure how else to describe it. I could cry at the drop of a hat, and my energy levels were so labile. I know that much of this was due to very expected hormone shifts - after all, they're the same hormones that kick in when you've just had a baby.

So to try to get back to my physical and emotional baseline, I started with Whole 30. Basically, it's a 30-day clean eating diet that acts as a reset for your body and mind. You can eat as many vegetables, fruits, meats, nuts and seeds, and healthy fats as you'd like. What it doesn't include - grains, dairy, sugar, soy, legumes - feels overwhelming at first. But it's only 30 days. You can do anything for 30 days! I didn't set out to lose weight on the diet, but just to feel better emotionally and mentally. I have about 9 more days to go, and feel really good as a result. My skin is clearer, my mind is sharper, and my energy levels are higher throughout the day. I can especially tell at the end of a 12-hour shift at the hospital that I'm not just a puddle on the floor, and that in itself is a miracle. If you want to find out more, read up on

Essential oils. I have enjoyed dabbling in essential oils for the past year or two, using them to make homemade cleaning supplies and diffusing them in our home. But it wasn't until my sister's mother-in-law sent several samples of "emotional blends" that I was hooked. My main go-to has been to dab a couple drops of Balance on my wrists, and add a couples of Wild Orange. I take some deep breaths and inhale the scent from time to time and it makes me feel balanced and energized and lifts my mood. I also like to diffuse them in that combination. I may do another post on oils sometime soon... I never thought I'd jump on the oils bandwagon, but now there are about 5 or 6 oils that are part of our daily routine. We've really been helped by them.

Magnesium. Just after the miscarriage, I noticed a lot of anxiety. Specifically, I would break out in a cold sweat thinking about getting on a plane the following week with my daughter. I've flown all my life and have gotten a lot better about my fear of flying in the past few years, so this came somewhat out of the blue. Anyway, did you know that there's a connection between anxiety and magnesium deficiency? And did you know that most of us are deficient in magnesium? And experiencing stress causes you to lose even more magnesium? There are plenty of articles about magnesium deficiency and its relation to mental and physical health (I liked this one and this one, for starters). So I started taking a daily magnesium supplement (this one from Amazon) and my anxiety and stress level has truly calmed.

Please hear me say loud and clear that there's no healer like Jesus. Time spent with Him and in His Word is irreplaceable and unsurpassable and the only thing that will bring true healing. This post is mostly centered on the tangible, practical things that He has brought into my path to help bring that much needed healing.

With hope.

Thursday, March 17, 2016

"May this be your experience; may you feel that the Hand which inflicts the wound supplies the balm, and that He who has emptied your heart has filled the void with Himself."                    - Hudson Taylor, missionary to China  
If I'd written my own life story a hundred different times in a hundred different ways, I never would have included this chapter: Our Second Miscarriage.
Back in January, Shawn and I were elated to read an instantly positive pregnancy test. Pregnancy symptoms set in quickly and we couldn't wait to hold our third sweet baby in September.

Fast forward a few weeks. Our first ultrasound would happen at 8 and a half weeks. I'd been anxious about the appointment for a few days, but couldn't put my finger on why. Looking back, my once-strong pregnancy symptoms had waned a bit: I had no nausea, my energy had returned, and other than my jeans feeling a little snug, I didn't feel pregnant. Still, I'd had such easy pregnancies with Liam and Lanie that I didn't think it was necessarily a bad sign.

Our doctor began the ultrasound and almost immediately, he said gently, "I'm feeling anxious about this." He could instantly see that something wasn't right. The baby that was supposed to have a heartbeat by this point didn't, and was measuring much tinier than it should have at 8 and a half weeks.

We left the ultrasound room with heavy hearts and sat down in his office with choices we had to face. Had I gotten the dates wrong? Maybe I wasn't as far into the pregnancy as I thought I was. I was pretty confident that I was, in fact, 8 and a half weeks pregnant, but couldn't be 100% sure. So instead of making any hasty decisions, we opted to wait 9 more days and have a followup ultrasound then. Still, we didn't leave the office with much hope. We were 99% sure of what the next ultrasound would show: a baby we would never get to hold on this side of eternity.

That afternoon, I headed to Shelley Lake alone. I walked and prayed and wept. As I grieved, all I could hear was, "I am your shield, your very great reward." The thought alone was so comforting. The Lord is my shield, protecting me in what felt like walking into inevitable devastation. When Lanie was born so fast and furious, I didn't have an option for any pain relief but had to face intense pain head-on, and I felt this same way. I looked ahead and the only option - losing my very wanted and very loved baby - seemed so painful and grim. But God would be there, even there. And secondly, God is my very great reward. A baby is not. Even if He never chooses to bless us with another baby, He is reward enough.

This verse kept playing in my head, breathing comfort and hope into my hurting heart. I initially thought it was a line out of a psalm. But when I looked it up, I found it in Genesis 15, promised by God to Abram just before Abram objects, "But Sovereign Lord, what can you give me since I remain childless and the one who will inherit my estate is Eliezer of Damascus?" God then makes a covenant with him to give him a son - his own flesh and blood. Whoa. Only God. That He chose to give me that specific verse was so powerful. While I didn't take it to mean that this child was necessarily going to live, I swelled with hope for the future.

When Thursday's ultrasound rolled around (two weeks ago today), an army of prayer warriors were on their knees for us. My mom was able to fly in to be with us no matter what happened. We prayed for a miracle: that we would see a flickering heartbeat across the screen. We also prayed for comfort in the midst of the grief that was even more likely. We even prayed that if I was to miscarry, my body would begin the process naturally so I could avoid any medical interventions. We felt peace walking into the ultrasound room and peace even as we heard the verdict: no growth, no heartbeat.

Initially, I had resisted a D&C surgery because of the risks involved. But with our doctor's advice, because of the amount of support tissue and the fact that my body showed no signs of miscarrying naturally, we chose the D&C and scheduled it for Friday morning. I had been walking around for over a week feeling like a ticking time bomb. I'd go to work for a 12-hour shift and think, "Am I going to lose the baby today?" It felt unsettling.
We should've spent Friday, March 4, celebrating 10 weeks of pregnancy. Instead, I spent it under anesthesia as our doctor skillfully removed every trace of our baby's shell. Ultimately, it felt like such a merciful option. I've been recovering surprisingly well, and it felt as if I was given a new start without days upon days of bleeding and cramping (as I experienced with my last miscarriage).

Two beautiful things - truly, beauty from ashes - have come from this that I can see so far.

First, the church has become so radiant to us. Our believing friends have willingly climbed into the trenches with us, dropping off flowers and cards or just sitting with us in our sadness. My friend Whit sent the most beautiful necklace with four links representing the four babies the Lord has blessed us with: two alive on earth, and two alive in Heaven. I have hardly taken it off. Another friend wrote out Scriptures on notecards that I read as I waited to be taken back into surgery, filling my mind with truth about the loving God that I serve even in the face of such sadness. Our amazing OB doctor, who goes to our church, has walked each step with us with genuine compassion. My mom rearranged her schedule to be a support to us and our kids so we didn't have to worry about their care. We had meals delivered for over a week. We feel so lavishly loved.

Second, the Lord has taken us deeper in our walks with him. This closeness is something I wouldn't even trade a baby for. At the recommendation of a friend, I listened to Audrey Assad's newest album, Inheritance just before the surgery. It's a mix of old and new hymns and was so powerful to prepare my heart for the loss of another baby. It has helped my heart stay open to Jesus' voice in the midst of pain.

I know that the topic of miscarriage can make people squirm. It even feels a little uncomfortable writing about it, not knowing who in the world will read this post today or in years to come. But I wanted to bring our story into the light with the hope that it may encourage even one person. There is no guilt or shame in losing a baby. I believe with every ounce of me that we will see our babies in Heaven one day, and until then, they'll be whole and safe at Jesus' feet. We grieve for them, yes. But we grieve with hope. I can't begin to understand why He would take this very precious, very loved child so soon. But we trust Him. We hope in Him. And we anticipate the ways He will heal and redeem.

Attention Apex friends...

Wednesday, March 16, 2016

Costco. We've never lived so dangerously close to one as we currently do: from our door to Costco's front doors, it's 2.2 miles. Because of this, we end up there with our kids at least once a week. Sometimes it's just for gas. Other times it's to stock up on produce. And often, it's to let Liam run the aisles when it's too cold to play outside. We even buy our Christmas tree there. It's like our neighborhood all-in-one spot.

Here are some of our favorite Costco things... 

The gas - If all we bought at Costco was gas, it would be well worth a yearly membership for us. It's always cheaper than other gas stations, clean, well-lit, and the attendants are friendly.

The produce - Amazingly, Costco is the largest organic grocer in the country. But besides that, we love buying produce in bulk - from berries to oranges to sweet potatoes.

The best photos - We've printed all of our family photos at Costco for years with the best results. I just order them online and pick them up later that same day.

Kirkland brand - From olive oil to dried fruit to paper towels, we haven't found a Kirkland brand  (Costco's house brand) item we didn't like. And if we did, their return policy is pretty amazing.
Costco recently started carrying the Honest Co brand, which is one of our favorites
We're excited that today, a brand new Costco has opened just a few miles from Raleigh in Apex, North Carolina. In the next couple weeks, I'll be hosting a giveaway here for local readers for a Costco gift basket, so keep your eyes peeled for that. In the meantime, there's a special offer available for new Costco members at Apex: new Executive Members will receive a $20 Costco Cash Card, and new Gold Star and Business Members will receive a $10 Costco Cash Card.

Do you have a Costco in your neighborhood? What's your favorite thing to buy there?

This post is in collaboration with Costco, a store we've loved for years. All of the ideas expressed are my own.
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