Why 25 wasn't so bad after all...

Well, like it or not, it happened. I turned the big 2-5. A quarter of a century. Halfway to 50. 5 years from thirty. No longer a young adult, but feeling way to young to be considered middle aged.
I'll be honest, there was some dread as yesterday approached. I began to wonder how young is too young to start lying about your age? Has it come to this? Have I finally reached that age when you would rather everyone forget your birthday than throw you a party?
When yesterday came, however, I slowly began to realize that I didn't have any more wrinkles than I had at 24. I still have no gray hair. I still listen to "hit music" rather than oldies and my panties do not have holes, nor do they come up to my belly button. Sure, I didn't gain any fun "rights" like driving, or voting, or going to rated-R movies, but none of those were as amazing as they were cracked up to being anyway (okay, except for maybe driving).
So, instead of griping about my age, instead I can be excited, becuase I had a pretty amazing day yesterday with some of my favorite people. And here's how it went:

I woke up to Chris and Benton bringing me breakfast in bed (blueberry pancakes, toast, and eggs over-easy, if you were wondering)
Next we went to church (message was GREAT, btw) and came home to watch the cheifs game (who won in my honor) and had lunch and hang out time with one of my favorite couples: Matt and Quinn.

My sister and EJ came over later in the afternoon and we had chocolate chocolate chip cake (recipe coming soon, per Megan's request ;)).

I also got some presents, which were pretty great. Here are a few of them.
In addition to all that, my husband did laundry and dishes so that I could relax all day. It was just a wonderful day all around, I felt very special and loved.
Here's to being 25!

My little music man

Ever since Benton was born, we knew he was destined to be a musician in some form or another. Besides the fact that both Chris and I play instruments, he has always had a tendency to bounce along to the beat of whatever's playing. He loves to clap his hands with the crowd at church and dances anytime a new song comes on the TV or radio. So, it didn't surprise us at all today when he decided it was time to experiment with different instruments and choose his calling.

He started with the drums...

Then he moved on to the piano...

Next he tried the guitar for a while...

But alas, he finally settled on the saxophone kazoo.

say a little prayer for...me

Well, believe it or not, it's September. That means it's been 9 months since Chris and I started "trying" for baby number two. Still no luck. With our first pregnancy, we weren't even trying. In fact, I was on birth control when I found out we were pregnant. (For those of you that don't know, we ended up having a miscarrage at right around 11 weeks with that baby). Our second pregnancy happened within three months of losing the first. I never thought we would face this problem. But here we are. Waiting. Hoping. Feeling disappointed month after month.
Some of my friends who know about my desire to have another baby don't understand. Benton is still so young, why the rush? And before I had Benton, I probably would have thought the same thing. Now that I have him now, though, I have found a whole new capacity within myself to love, in a deeper and stronger way than I ever knew was possible. Everyday I see him grow and learn, which is the greatest reward in the world. I can't imagine life without Benton. He brings so much joy to my life, I can't help but want more kids to love.
I'm not sure why we haven't had any answers to our prayers yet. I don't know wether God is saying "No" or just "Not yet."  But I'm hitting a point where waiting on his timing is getting harder and harder.
So, here's my request to all of you out there reading this: say a prayer for us. I'm calling all my prayer warriors out there to keep us in mind throughout these next few months as we continue to try to seek His ways and trust His plans. Hopefully a new baby will soon be a part of those plans, but if not, pray for us as we try to discover the paths He would have us take.

sorry for the downer...

There is one part of my job I absolutly hate.
Here's the scenerio:
Middle age (mid thirties) woman suffering from a form of cancer comes into the hospital with pneumonia. She has two daughters, both under the age of 15, and a husband who loves her like she's the only woman in the world (and to him, she truly is). However, after arrival, her condition quickly worsens and she is intubated and placed on a ventilator. Many treatments are started, tests are ordered, and doctors are puzzled. On the second night I am caring for her, her health takes another turn for the worse. However, the changes are nothing we haven't seen before, and thanks to my schooling I know just what ventilator changes need to be made to correct the rising carbon dioxide levels in her blood. Doctors order the changes, they are quickly made, and we wait. Levels are retested: carbon dioxide is going up instead of down. Her blood is becoming more acidic. Doctors order more changes to the ventilators. We wait. More tests; more bad news. One more set of changes, we aren't ready to give up yet. Carbon dioxide keeps rising. The doctors call a meeting with the husband. He's not ready, but he knows he has to say goodbye.
It's about two in the morning. Her husband doesn't want to call anyone, becuase that would mean leaving her side for even just a few minutes. No, he will wait until she's gone, he wants to have the last few minutes with her alone. Then I get called in. It's what they call a "terminal extubation." We pull the tube and turn off the breathing machine. The nurses have given meds to make sure she stays comfortable, like she's sleeping. Walking into that room, I feel like Jack the Ripper. He's holding her hand, saying "I love you" over and over with tears running down his cheeks.
I leave as quietly as I entered, and watch the monitors from outside as her heart rate slows. Fifteen minutes later, she's gone.
Every day I see anywhere from 5 to 35 patients. The majority of them greatly benifit from the treatments I deliver. A handful of those really could die without what we do. A few times I have made a change or noticed a need that truly has saved a life.
But that doesn't make nights like this any easier. It only teaches me to cherish life, and the ones I love, and the ones who love me, and would hold my hand refusing to leave, even to make a phone call.
Find a way to cherish life today. Find a way to love someone a little harder today. I double dog dare you.