A Longing Fulfilled

Today is one month post surgery, and so much has changed in four short weeks.  Patrick has seen an astounding weight loss of 46.6 pounds since surgery day, and 72.6 pounds total since making diet changes at the beginning of April.  Incredible!  I’m so proud of him. 

Now that we have reached four weeks, he has introduced more “normal” foods.  Everything still has to be really soft and super well chewed, but he’s found quite a few things he can eat and enjoy.  We went to lunch together this week while we were out running errands.  We got a single soup and half sandwich combo and shared it.  I had half a sandwich, and he had five bites of soup and was done.  He’s such a cheap date now! 

I was chatting with friends this week about some things I’ve noticed.  He called me while I was talking with them, and I noticed there is something different in his voice-a tenderness that I haven’t heard in awhile.  I mentioned it to them, wondering what the change might be.  It has been a consistent change since the surgery, so it seems to be hanging around-believe me-I love it!  My friend wondered if maybe, it might be hope, and I think she might have it.  Perhaps, in his own way, he had lost hope that anything would ever change, just as I had.  Maybe the change isn’t just in him…perhaps it’s in me too.  I know my hope has been renewed of late.  In my heart, I always trusted my good, good Father to take care of us, but as time wore on and nothing changed, I definitely got discouraged.  In the wondering, I’m brought to Proverbs 13:12, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.”  It’s not just that his voice has changed, it’s his heart as well.  I had never thought about it possibly not being just me that was constantly frustrated and disappointed, which caused me to withdraw and become defensive.  Maybe he wasn’t content with living the way we always had-experiencing life from a spectator’s seat, watching everything happen around him-I wonder if, perhaps, that deferred hope in his own heart pushed my love to make the change, and once he took the first step to be transformed for good, God honored His word-honored the obedient heart- and planted the seed in the fertile soil of change, that has taken root to produce a tree of life heart-work-a tree watered by the Living Water, which is all the water and food our soul will ever need. 

Oh, this makes me excited.  I see it now!  God, in His infinite grace, takes opportunity with our hearts, when we come to humbly trust, like children-blindly, completely-to plant the seed of hope in the soft ground of humility.  It takes root quickly, no longer choked out by our pride, and grows the Tree of Life within our hearts.  Stepping out in blind faith, for me, made me utterly helpless-broke up the stony ground that I’d allowed life to create in me.  Reacting instead of responding in love had slowly choked out the Life in me, had made me cynical, angry, intolerant, no longer bearing Good Fruit.  But the helplessness, the blind trust of true, childlike faith, had broken through years of bitter and angry to yield a soft heart to receive the Love that had always been there for me.  I didn’t have to earn it.  I didn’t have to be all things to all people.  I had to just trust the One who deposits the seed into the fertile soil of soft hearts, and let Him do the caring for a care-worn child.  This surgery may have saved Patrick’s life, but I’m sure, as I sit here this morning, that it saved mine too.  His radical decision brought us both to helpless dependence on God, eradicated our pride, and allowed Life to begin to grow afresh in our hearts.  There is a new tenderness, for both of us, brought about by the Great Tree springing up within each of our hearts.  Love endures all things.  It produces a good work when we get out of our own way and allow Love to bring to completion that which was begun in us.

I look forward to Love’s fruit in our lives-that we can share it with many, multiply the seeds, and see them planted in willing hearts.

The New Normal

I don’t know who really runs with open arms toward change.  I know I’m not one of those people.  I am a creature of habit, and I find great comfort in routine.  My whole life is mostly a routine.  As a teacher, it’s my job to create routines and stability for my students, and they treasure it as much as I do.  I have to prepare them for change. We have short morning meetings to talk about what may be special or different each day.  For my own children, I do the same thing.  My oldest thrives in routine.  My kids will be quick to tell you “But, that’s not how Mama does it,” if you have to deviate from the norm. 

To say that we have to adjust to the recent changes in our family is a gross understatement.  Thankfully, my God, in His infinite grace, is being so gentle with this worrysome daughter of His, as well as these young ones He’s entrusted to us.  He knows all of us so intimately, and He is not intimidated by our quirks, our need to be in a controlled environment, or our staunch resistance to change.  But He is also too good of a Father to leave us where we are, so He brings transition-somewhat of an abrupt change this time-and He stands with us.  We are all slowly adjusting, and the differences are a few more each day.

The children are getting used to Daddy saying, “I’m not hungry,” and they are free to respond to that openly.  Our oldest readily states that he’s not used to hearing those words from Daddy, and it’s OK that it’s true.  It’s something that will readily become a way of life for us, as we begin to see the positive changes that happen when we say no to food, and yes to life.  We eat to live, no longer live to eat. 

Little girls who are so used to tucking themselves into Daddy’s “pocket” (the space between his side and the arm of the couch) to watch a show before bed and get some snuggles, have learned to crawl up gently to watch for stitches, that are quickly healing, and looking better each day.  Soon, those will be coming out, but they will have to continue being careful for awhile.  The biggest, our man-child has to put a hold on jumping into Daddy’s arms for his good night hugs and kisses for a bit, but that doesn’t stop him from getting his goodnight love.  None of us really like the feel of stitches on our skin, so we tend to stay away from incisions when snuggling in to our protector.

Zoe has found a recent love of the chocolate protein shakes, which is wonderful, because she doesn’t really like eating much anyway.  The children love Daddy’s new diet, as they have all the yogurt, sugar free popsicles, and Jell-o they could ever want.  The biggest problem is making sure the fridge stays stocked so that when their daddy actually needs to have something, it’s there for him. 

I’ve pretty much banned the term “bloated full” which has always been somewhat of a trademark phrase of Patrick’s.  This takes on a whole new meaning after bariatric surgery.  Bloated can mean that you’ll need to throw up soon, because once you reach full, there is literally no other place for food to go.  So, upon further discussion, we have determined that the phraseology, “bloated full” isn’t an accurate descriptor of the feeling he feels, as the last thing we want is to stretch out that shiny new stomach he has.  Sometimes, indigestion is the feeling, as reflux is common, but for him, it’s often some discomfort instead.  If you can’t tell, I’m kind of a words person, so accurately describing something to me is important, and I take his words very literally.  Since his catch phrase causes me heart palpitations, I’ve asked him to try out different ways of explaining how he’s feeling.  And he’s doing a great job of accommodating me in these early days post surgery.   

One thing we all have to work with is his constant feeling that his thoughts are disconnected.  He often loses his train of thought, or struggles to find a word in conversation.  As he is able to take in more protein, this should improve, as should his energy levels.  He still needs lots of rest, and we try to let that happen as often as our noisy little brood of small people will allow it.  He forgets things a lot.  It reminds me of myself when I’m under lots of stress.  I tend to forget things so much when all the plates are spinning a hundred miles an hour!  So we all help as much as we can, and we know that soon, he will be feeling more like himself and won’t have a self proclaimed “baby brain.”  He has a whole new understanding of my experience with forgetfulness during my pregnancies.  He can truly understand first-hand!

I’m affectionately known as “The Warden” these days, as I’m a pretty big fan of following the plan the nutritionist went over with us at the hospital.  I know he misses tasting “real” food, but my heart is to see him fully healed, with no setbacks or complications.  His healing has gone miraculously well.  I’m amazed at how quickly incisions are healing.  Stitches came out yesterday, as he was starting to heal over them.  I got some great video and photos of them coming out, and I even got to pull a couple myself!  AWESOME!! 

Personally, I’m adjusting myself back into a slower pace of summer.  It allows me to afford little luxuries like staying up later, and in turn, sleeping in later.  But not too late…these kids are ready to take on the world!  With that slower pace, comes a chance for me to reflect on my responses to these beautiful children.  They get on each others’ nerves from time to time; they tattle constantly; they don’t listen to me…it tests me daily.  So, my personal challenge this summer is to respond to them in love-sometimes firm love-but also, to have more grace for them.  I personally must realize that everything isn’t an emergency, and to respond with calm grace, instead of reacting in anger.  I’m being purposeful to take little faces gently into my hands, look into those soft brown eyes, and give direction or correction with love, instead of yelling.  It’s a reprogramming season for me and for the children, too.  Sadly, under the pressure and stress of long work hours, and feeling the strain of trying to keep up with home and family, I’m pretty sure it was my family that took the brunt of the anger that resulted from just being stretched too thin.  I’m hopeful that, as weight comes off and my husband feels better, I will not have to stretch that far again.  And even if I do find myself stretched paper thin, my prayer for myself is that I learn to deal with all of life’s emergencies with a full measure of grace, and to embrace each moment as a chance to squeeze the most full joy out of each day.  

Progress Report

Today's post is just a simple progress report, but there is beauty in the practical things.  I want to keep this here so that one day our children can go back and review this journey they likely won't remember as being a big deal.  They won't know until later in their lives that this decision, and the journey that ensued, was the lynchpin that changed the course of our lives as a family.

Patrick has been incredibly strong through this whole process.  He started a modified diet 6 weeks before surgery date.  He focused on a high protein diet, with low carbs and moderate fats, cutting sugar from his diet.  He knew he had to lose about 20 pounds to be able to go to Mexico and get the surgery, because the O.R. table had a 500 lb. weight limit, and he weighed 518.6 before he started diet changes.  Ten days before surgery he went to a clear liquid only diet.  The doctor only required five days of clear liquids, but he wanted to make sure he achieved the purpose of the fast, and have his liver at a reduced size in anticipation of surgery.  A smaller liver simply means an easier procedure.  The day of surgery was a total fast from everything, and he received all nourishment through IV that day. Then, 24 hours after surgery he was given ice chips and slowly, throughout the day, reintroduced a few more clear liquids (sugar free ice pops, water, broth, sugar free jello).  The main jobs at this point were to walk and nap.  He continued this clear liquid diet ten days post surgery, for a grand total of 20 days of clear liquids.  The Tuesday before surgery, he weighed in again, just to make sure he was under the 500 lb. weight limit.  Using the four weeks of high protein and ten days clear liquid diet, he weighed in at 492, for a loss of 26.6 pounds before surgery.  After surgery, and the continued liquid diet, he posted a weight of 471 eight days post op-a 21 lb. loss in 8 days!  He was very tired, and needed frequent rest and naps.  I reminded him to rest, as he was taking in less than 50 calories a day, and recovering from surgery.  His biggest job, to me, was to hydrate.  I know he got tired of me telling him to keep drinking water.  It was a struggle, as the stomach was small, and he had to sip so slowly, or it was painful, but hydration aids our healing.  It allows cells to repair themselves.  And he needed to heal completely.

After he completed his ten days of clear liquids this past Sunday, he was ready to introduce protein again in the from of protein shakes, low fat yogurt, and fat free milk.  He will continue these in addition to jello, sugar free popsicles, natural fruit bars, and chicken broth until Friday, when he can start adding purees to his diet.

He continues to have an incredible attitude, never complaining when the family eats in front of him.  I ask him if he feels hungry, and he says he's never hungry.  He has to make himself take in the required amounts of protein and water for each day, sipping slowly, being intentional about ingesting things healthful to his healing process.

Even with his reduced energy, I've seen an increase in so many things.  I've already seen him helping more, and I hope he knows these things aren't going unnoticed.  He cleaned off a table without prompting. When we went to Sam's last week, and he picked up a bunch of flowers for me.  He knows I love fresh flowers, but I know he detests buying them for me, because they die.  But he loves me enough to occasionally overlook his annoyance with flowers.

One day last week, he was going to the store to get a couple of things, and Zoe asked to go with him.  He readily agreed and they headed to the car, and when Charis came unglued at the thought of not getting to go to the store with Daddy, he took her along, too.  This blessed my heart to no end.  I knew taking the girls meant a lot of extra work and time for what should have been a quick errand.  They were gone for awhile.  When they came home, my sweet girls were glowing with the joy of having spent time with their Daddy.  They came with the things I asked for, and a couple of extras for his little ladies.  It meant the world to them.  And to me.  He met my need for a few household things, but more than that, he helped.  He didn't complain.  I didn't even have to ask.  He took it upon himself, and that...was worth more than words can say.  He loved me my way.  It's what we always talk about, but it's such a beautiful sight when it happens without prompting.  I've always known he loves me completely, but he's begun to have the energy to love me by helping more.  And it is completely refreshing. 

Extra-Ordinary Grace

This week as we arrived back home on Monday (Really, midnight, so Tuesday Morning) and started back to the work of getting things done-paying bills, running errands, buying groceries-it seemed a little surreal to me. We were headed to Publix to do some very ordinary grocery shopping on Tuesday, and I had a moment while we were walking through the store. That in itself was a small miracle, as we had come to this place where it was such an effort for Patrick to get out of the car and do things like go shopping that he would just drop me off at the entrance to stores and drive around the parking lot until I was done shopping, and then swing by to pick me up. He’d never say he was too tired to go in the store, or that it was too much effort for the handful of things we may have needed, but I have to think that must have been what it was. Sometimes, it was what we’d do to avoid getting all three kids out of the car to just run in for a few things (it takes so long to get everyone unloaded and reloaded), but it became the norm, whether the kids were with us or not.

This particular time, he surprised me by going in the store with me. It made my heart so happy to already see small steps of progress, that were so huge to me. I knew he would tire quickly from the clear liquid diet, so it truly blessed my heart that he wanted to go with me. I know he needs to walk daily, and it’s so refreshing to see him owning his care plan without my prompting.

As we walked through the store, I had this moment where something as ordinary as a trip to buy groceries became a kind of sacred moment. I was reminded of the story of Lazarus, found in John 11:1-44. I’m sure you’re familiar with the story. Jesus loved Lazarus and his sisters, Mary and Martha, and when they sent word to him that Lazarus was sick, Jesus took his time getting to his friend. Once arriving in Bethany, he found Lazarus’s sisters grieving, as Lazarus had been dead for four days. The sisters told the Master he was too late, and he was heartbroken-he wept. Then, true to Himself, he called Lazarus out of the grave-it wasn’t time for Lazarus to leave his earthly home just yet-and he returned to his family. This happy reunion is where John leaves off for us. It’s here that Father God brought me, in the middle of the grocery store. As I’m walking with my dear husband from aisle to aisle, I think I may have gotten a glimpse of how it felt for Mary and Martha once the grave clothes were off and Lazarus returned home.

Did my husband die? Of course not!  Was he on the brink of death? Not yet. But something happened for me while we were gone to Mexico. I had resolved within myself that he might not come back to me the day we parted in the hospital, and I also knew that if I didn’t let him go get the surgery, I was bound to lose him soon to complications with his weight. I had to completely surrender him to my Jesus, who knew best of all what I needed. And Jesus, who sees the broken-hearted, saw my heart, my need for His help, and removed the death sentence from over my husband’s life. He redeemed Patrick’s heart 20 years before, but now, my Loving Savior had restored his physical life. An undeserved gift that wasn’t lost on me.

As I did the everyday work of walking in a grocery store that day, I got a glimpse of how Mary and Martha must have felt as they went about daily life after Lazarus was restored to them. They must have seen each opportunity to spend time with their brother as a special gift given by a loving savior.  Knowing that Lazarus was restored from death made each day a special gift. Likewise, I began to see the regular, the mundane, as a privilege, a special opportunity to be grateful to the good God that I serve. And for each moment hereafter, I am immeasurably thankful.