December 2 - Prince of Peace

"...and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace."

Tonight's Advent Bible reading was from Isaiah 9:1-7, and once again, God's word speaks directly to our needs. We are relying on our Savior heavily as the Prince of Peace tonight.

Four out of five kids succumbed to one degree or another to a cold over Thanksgiving break. Because of Daniel's age and the fact he has been sick the longest, and because of Alan's suppressed immune system, we decided those two needed to see the doctor this morning.

Daniel checked out just fine, but we learned that Alan has pneumonia in one lung.

We are now concerned for all of the children, as fevers and coughs are still coming and going, and especially for Alan, since his body just doesn't have as much to fight with as the others.  He is on antibiotics and being watched closely from all angles!

With the time spent visiting the doctor and taking temps and giving meds and making sure the house is ready for whatever coming and going may be done, we did absolutely zero trimmings of Christmas today.

And yet, "Christmas" is just as real, just as relevant as ever. The baby in the manger wasn't just a baby. He was God in the flesh. He has experienced our heartaches. He is the mighty God who conquered death and sin and lives again today. He is the Prince of Peace. 

He is our Prince of Peace.

Gift of Life

On this day (Sunday, December 30th) 5 years ago we sat in a Children's waiting room while our 13 month old baby boy got a new liver.  (Click here for a play-by-play look back at that day.)

Because of our own experiences, I am always touched by similar stories.  The most recent was one I saw on the news just before Christmas, the story of a little girl living at 'our' Children's for over 4 months waiting on a heart transplant.

My emotional connection to that particular story probably had a lot to do with it being Christmas, since Alan's own life-saving transplant came less than a week after Christmas Day.

Her story stayed with me enough that she came to mind during a middle of the night feeding.  As I nursed Daniel, I began to pray for the little girl.  I prayed she would receive her new heart soon.  As it often happens in these situations, I realized all over again what that would mean.

For her to get a new heart means someone will have to die.  Someone that is living right now, laughing, and loving.  I have come to believe that to pray for these situations is not to pray for someone to die, because that is,sadly, going to happen anyway.  We are praying for that poor family to say 'yes' to donation.

That still doesn't make the thought any easier that someone has to die for another to live.

Then I think about myself, and my own once-terminal condition.  All of us, at some point, are dying.  Except unlike the girl in the news story, who has done nothing wrong to cause her body to fail,
our spiritual death is the result of our own wrongs.  Our hearts are broken, diseased, and filled with selfishness and sin, and the only way for them to find new life is death.

The death that paid for my own condition began as a tiny new life in a manger many years ago.

The Lord of all Creation was born as a baby that grew into a boy, and a man.  He lived and laughed and loved, too.  And then he died.  For me.  For my diseased heart.  And for you and yours.  But praise God, Jesus conquered death and lived again. He lives today, waiting for each of us to come to him.

In this season of gifts and giving, let's not forget the One gift, the only gift, that really matters.  Our Children's hospital's motto is "The One for children".  Just so, Jesus is The One for you.  I know from experience that when the gift of physical life is offered we humbly and gratefully fall to our knees and accept it.  It is our only hope.  The gift of life that Jesus offers is our only spiritual hope.  Without it, without Him, without humble acceptance of our broken, sinful condition and his perfect gift, there is no life and healing.

We are spending this day thankful for Alan's life and the willingness of his donor family to say 'yes'.  

We praise God for the help and healing he has given us these past 6 years.  We pray for our precious donor family, and we pray for you, to know the Gift of Life that God has given, his own Son, for each of us.

All's well....

Alan had his follow up appointments at Children's today.  We took the whole family along, but because of all the coughing and congestion and... well.. coughing, Alan and I took care of all the dr visiting, while Daddy hung out here and there nearby with everyone else.  We met up for a quick lunch at the "handy" hospital cafe that ended up costing us a pretty penny!

Frankly, the whole day was tiresome and stressful, largely due to the fever spike in the middle of the day.  


Mid 99s was in the plan. 101 was not.


Things turned out well though, if judging by nothing else but the fact that we are all 6 home together tonight.

We love Children's, but we love going home at the end of the day best!

Life: bad and good, mixed and stirred

As is often the case, we had other plans for last Monday, when Greg and Alan ended up spending all day at the pediatrician's office and in the er.  Greg had the day off and there had been talk of a fishing trip or other fun stuff early in the day.


Our mid-way sonogram was scheduled for that afternoon.  Dale had been asking if he could come this time.  Both Brooklyn's and Tyler's had been scheduled early in the day while Greg was working, so my Mom (and sister, once) came with me for those.  But we had decided this time - why not? Let's bring the whole family!  The plan was to leave Tyler and Brooklyn with a sitter and the rest of us go in together to find out if we'd have a new baby brother or sister.


And then plans changed.  There lay Alan in the emergency room with an iv in his arm, awaiting transfer to Children's.  


It may have been a stubborn, forge-ahead approach, but Greg and I decided I should keep the appointment.  Even though problems with Alan are few and far between (thankfully!), they are a fact of our life.  


We went ahead with the plan to leave the littles with a sitter, and Dale and I went alone to the appointment.  


Dale loved seeing the baby move.  He was thrilled he could recognize those black and white blurs as a baby!  Little baby arms up next to a little baby head.  A little baby foot.


The tech was careful to avoid any nether-regions, because we had requested not to find out while we were there in the room.


Instead, per our request, she handed us the printed still shots of our new little one, folded to the inside so we couldn't see them.  She warned us that the very first one was the one we were most interested in.


Dale and I got to the van and called up Daddy and Alan.  Moments before they headed toward Children's, we each got on speakerphone (medical team witnesses and all).


Dale got the honors of being the very first to know.  


He unrolled our strip of baby pictures and without fanfare announced quite loudly to the rest of us, all at the same time....


"IT'S A BOY!!" :)


And now you know... the rest of the story. :)

In which we get medical and slightly technical

1. Thank you all for kind messages and prayers.  They are very encouraging and much appreciated!

2. Our nephew/cousin Logan is home from the hospital and doing much better. 

3. Alan:

The short version is this: Alan woke up Monday morning with a fever of 104.3.  We took him immediately to our pediatrician, where we found out his white blood count was over 24,000.  (Average/normal is 4,000 - 10,000).  From there he was moved to the local er to be treated while waiting on a transfer to our Children's hospital.  The fever responded very well on Monday to iv fluids and an antibiotic injection.

Greg and Alan spent Monday night at Children's.  That evening and much of the day Tuesday involved a lot of tests and a lot of visits from specialists.  

The bottom line seems to be fairly uncomplicated, as far as medical things go.  

 - Alan has had a cold/junky cough (we knew that).

 - He has pink eye.  We suspected that on Saturday / Sunday, and figured it would mean a dr. visit on Monday.  He got it from Tyler, who had a mild case and recovered on his own in just 2-3 days.  We don't know where Tyler got it.  It is viral, as opposed to bacterial, which means no meds to treat it, just let it run its course.

 - Alan has an infection in his ear canal.  More commonly known as: swimmer's ear.  No, we haven't been swimming.  Alan has had mounting issues with his ears in the last couple of months.  Since December, we have had an appointment scheduled with an Ear/Nose/Throat dr for the first week of June.  Things just came to a head (ha! Alan's head!) before we could get there.  We will be keeping that appointment, because...

 - Alan's tonsils are about as big as a kid's can get and will need to come out at some point.  Here again, this is something we were aware of, hence the ENT appointment next month.

To recap: it was the incredibly high fever and the high white count that landed Alan in the hospital. After evaluation we know those were most likely caused by the ear infection.  I think I will always laugh when I look back on this admission: my kid was hospitalized for pink eye and swimmer's ear!

In truth, however, my kid was hospitalized because he has a compromised immune system.  Infections are never a thing to be taken lightly with him, because we can never know for sure how well he will - or will not - be able to fight something off on his own.  Sometimes, a little thing can turn to a big thing way too fast.  

We are thankful for God's blessings and care.  We are thankful for cautious doctors that stay on top of things.  We are thankful for the simplicity of pink eye and swimmer's ear!  We are even thankful for the compromised immune system.  It protects the beautiful gift of life Alan was given on December 30, 2007.  As always, we are thankful for that gift, and the courageous family that gave it.

My little karate kid....

...isn't feeling so well.

My mom's blog has a bit more info on why mine is so quiet.

Thanks in advance for your prayers.

Fried chicken livers.

I don't know how the majority of the population feels about them.  I suspect it is a love 'em / hate 'em, take 'em or leave 'em kind of feeling.
And possibly a regional thing?


We had livers off and on as I was growing up.  Rare enough to be a treat, and not too often to get tired of them.  Maybe 2 or 3 times a year?


With both of my first two pregnancies I had them more often, for the health benefits to mama & baby.


And then my baby was diagnosed with liver disease.  And had a liver transplant. And I held his removed, diseased liver in my hand.


And that was the end of my chicken liver eating.  I had no interest in or appetite for the organ meat of a chicken or any other critter.  I even avoided them in the Thanksgiving giblet gravy.


Four and a half years later, my little sister comes home for a visit, pregnant with her first child.  My mother, saddled with the same sudden liver aversion as me, decides for the sake of her other daughter and unborn grandchild, she must grit her teeth and carry on.


So she bought some chicken livers, fried 'em up, and served them.  And well... since there they were and they smelled pretty good, she went ahead and ate some, too.  Since there I was, across town and preggers myself, she made me up a sandwich and brought it over.


And what do you know, Sam I Am.... they weren't that bad.


In fact, they were "not that bad" enough that a couple of weeks later I drove through a local chicken place to try them again.  And enjoyed them.  The key is not to think too long or hard (or at all) about exactly what it is you are eating.


But considering the fact that I just wrote this post while eating yesterday's drive-thru left-overs, I'd say the self-imposed chicken liver prohibition has been lifted!


What about you? Do you like liver? Have you ever eaten it?  
Could you, would you, Sam-I-Am?

Today

Five years ago today our 9 week old baby boy was diagnosed with a life-threatening disease.

Four years ago today he was dismissed from the hospital with a life-saving liver transplant.

Today he sang songs to his baby sister.


Today he goes to his second taekwondo class.


Today he had a picnic lunch in the sunshine.

Five years ago today it felt like our world was falling apart.  So much of it remains perfectly clear in my memory.  The faces, the emotions, the laughter, and the tears.


Today we are different people for the journey God has led us on.  For the people we have met, and the grace we have been given.


Today I am thankful.

Growing Up

My baby boy lost his first tooth.

The boy that once was a little snuggle bug but now wrestles rambunctiously.

The boy that once was terrified of the vacuum but as I type is busy vacuuming his sister's room.

The boy whose only chance at life was an organ transplant and is now a healthy 5 year old.

I'm feeling thankful for the little things like lost baby teeth.

And thankful for that precious face, new tooth-gap and all. :)

Juxtaposition

This week Tyler is 6 weeks past his first birthday.

Yesterday Mom and I got together and she took some stinkin' adorable pictures of him.


Aside from the simple documenting of Tyler's babyhood, there was another reason I wanted those pictures made.


The pictures we took of Tyler were exactly 6 weeks and 5 days after his first birthday.  


This is Alan, exactly 6 weeks and 5 days after his first birthday:

This Sunday, Tyler was the exact age Alan was when he received his transplant.  Down the very hour.


Both boys were born on Tuesdays in the 11 o'clock hour.  Both boys' first birthdays were on a Wednesday.


Alan's call for transplant came in the wee hours of a Sunday morning, six weeks and four days after he turned 1.  


So all day Sunday we noticed the time and what had been doing at that time in January 2008.


All day we marveled.


We marveled that Alan had only been a baby when he underwent such a tremendous thing.  A baby much like, and yet so very different from his yet innocent little brother.

And we marveled, once again, at the many miracles we've witnessed these last 4 years.  I think we'll never stop being amazed and grateful at God's goodness he has given us in the gift that is this boy:

I love 'em all, with all my heart!

Surviving the risks

(How awesome would it be if this post was full of pictures of my trio playing in the sunshine today?  How splendid if I had thought bringing my camera.  Yeah, well... I didn't.  But you can imagine, right?) 

I took the boys to the park today.

They've been climbing the walls lately with all the cold and mud and well.... all the cold.

With sunshine and temps in the upper 40's it was practically a heatwave outside.  We made our weekly-ish trip to the library today (on a Tuesday of all things.... we're so unpredictable these days), and then took a 2-block detour to the park.  It seemed like good planning to me, knowing that the next wave of snow and bitter cold will be here tonight.  What better place to get those kiddos out to burn some energy than a playground?

It turns out 49 degrees and very windy is not so much a heatwave once you are standing out in it.  At any rate, the boys were thrilled and stayed on the move the whole time.  Even Tyler stayed busy, once he finally got the hang of maneuvering in the deep pebbles.

First rattle out of the box, Dale slid down the big tall tube slide, and what should he push out the bottom ahead of him but a sheet of ice.  Under which was a puddle of ice-cold water.  You know what gets wet when you slide through a puddle, don't you?  Mmm-hmmm.  Poor Dale.  I asked him once if he was cold (he said yes), but he never complained... not even once.

Dale and Alan bounced around from one piece of equipment to another, their favorite being the old, real, fire truck to climb and play on.  I think Alan's second favorite must have been the tall climbing bars.  They started at the ground and made a half-rainbow up to a platform about 6 feet in the air.  In general I am not a hoverer, but today I held my breath watching Alan climb up and over the first time.  

He didn't think he would make it all the way, but with a little coaching and a tiny helping hand from his 5'8" mom, he did it!  If I thought I had been nervous watching him climb up, I had no idea what was coming watching him climb down.  Yes, with his confidence up after going up and down and up again, he was feeling rather brave.

My heart was in my throat and my insides clenched up tight watching his short legs and little feet take every step, with nothing below but gravel, and plenty of shiny green metal to bump all the way down.  This is the boy who is so tough.  He has had so much pain that I couldn't stop, even some that I signed the papers and handed him over for, that it is so hard to stand back and let him risk pain that I could prevent.  But how else would he remain brave?  How else would he get to beam that proud smile for making it up and over and back again?  

So I stepped back, to do nothing but watch.  And then, sure enough, he slipped.

With both hands on the side rails he took a step forward and his foot slid right off that narrow bar.  Watching now in slow motion, I knew even being a few steps away I could never catch him.  But I didn't need to.  He caught himself.  Instead of falling to the rocks below (and catching chin and who knows what else on the way down) he held on tight with both hands and straddled the bar his feet had just left.

The momentary look of fear and panic in his eyes was immediately replaced with relief, and then pride.  And then, was that...?  Yes... a look of enjoyment.  The risk-taker in him decided that was fun.  So he hoisted himself up, got back on his feet, and proceeded to re-enact the whole thing.  Again.  And again.  And then with variations.  With a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

I don't know if our chilly 30 minute romp at the park burned enough energy to get us through the snow days ahead or not, but the sunshine and the change of pace were both wonderful.  For all of us.  

As we headed off to buckle up, I think Dale said it best:

"Other than getting my rear-end wet, that was FUN!!"

Scrub-a-dub-dub!

My friend Sam (whose daughter Bethany had a liver transplant almost exactly 1 year after Alan) recently posted a helpful, handy, how-to video on good hand-washing.


You definitely don't have to have an immune-suppressed family member to appreciate the germs and illnesses you can avoid with simple hand-washing.  We instruct our boys (and follow this ourselves, as well) to rub both hands together, making suds for 20 seconds.  We either watch the bathroom clock or sing the ABC's to ensure we've scrubbed long enough.


I like how this video takes that a little further and gives good instructions on how to scrub.  Will we use this exact method every time we wash now?  Um... no.  But we will definitely take improved habits from it, and probably kill more germs in the process.  Yay!







The only thing that bothers me about this video is that she turns touches the faucet handle with clean hands to turn the water off.  What was the last thing to touch that faucet...?  Her dirty hands!  At home I always touch again, but in public I either use my elbow or forearm or leave the water running while I grab a paper towel for touching the faucet.  Obsessive germo-phobe?  Ohhhh... possibly. ;)


Many of you have probably already heard of the germs/hand-washing glitter demonstration.  I keep meaning to do that with my boys... maybe this week!  For those not familiar, you coat your hands with a light layer of cooking oil and then a sprinkling of fine glitter.  The glitter represents bacteria & viruses, and you get to see how long it takes to wash all those stubborn bits away!  Hmmm... I'm thinking one kid could 'wash' the quick & easy way and another could scrub up as in the video above and see who got rid of more germs!


Stay warm and stay well!

Flashbacks, and walking in someone else's shoes

Tyler randomly popped up with a fever yesterday.  No other symptoms... just a fever that's stuck with him for 24 hours and counting now.  It's kind of odd around here for a kid to have a fever and for us to be doing... well, pretty much nothing about it.  We got so conditioned to acting fast and understanding fevers to mean serious sickness.  But, so far, it looks like it's just a kid thing, and we are praying it stays that way.

Getting out thermometers and tylenol always makes me think of Alan anyway, but last night I got off on another trail down memory lane...


In our Children's hospital, vitals are checked every 4 hours.  This meant 3 times in a 12 hour shift a smiling 'tech' would knock on our door, pulling a blood pressure machine with her.  She would un-velcro a blood pressure cuff from the bed and wrap it around Alan's arm.  Then she'd take a thermometer from the end of his bed and stick it under the same arm and start the bp machine.

Blood pressure, heart rate, and temperature would all finish reading about the same time and she would write them down on her notepad to enter into the computer later.  


Of course, all this time, she'd be chatting with us or, more likely, playing with Alan.  He was just a baby then, you know.  The long days got pretty monotonous, so having a tech come in for vitals was very much like having a visitor and we were usually glad for the diversion.


Usually.


Because you see.... vitals were checked every. 4. hours.  And that included throughout the night.  


The first check usually came around 9:00.  Knowing it was coming, we tried our hardest to keep Alan awake for it.  Most of the time that wasn't too hard.


But by 1:00am, we were usually enjoying some well-earned, hard-fought SLEEP, and I didn't care how sick my baby had been 3 days ago, he hasn't had a temp in 48 hours and is FINE now thankyouverymuch and can you just take his vitals later? Mkay, bye.


But no.  Most of the time I would wake up the instant the door opened and the hall light would seep in, even though it was dimmed for the night.

This would be a good place to point out that, not surprisingly, some techs were quieter than others.  And some were more efficient than others.  But even for the best it was a challenge to keep Alan asleep for all that measuring and maneuvering.


If it was a tech I liked, and that had a chance of keeping Alan asleep, I'd usually get up and stand by his bedside to assist.


If I knew it was someone likely to wake him up anyway, I'd just lay there 'possuming, waiting and watching for it all to go bad.  If I was particularly short on sleep and grumpy I'd lay there fuming.  Other times I was more kindly and patiently waiting for her to do her thing and get gone so I could nurse him back to sleep.


It was a sad sight really.  It was usually the younger ones, those closer to girl than woman that woke him up.  And granted, they'd try.  They'd pat and shush but I knew it was all in vain.  Once he was awake, he was awake.  And ... if I wasn't particularly short on sleep and grumpy, I'd feel sorry for them.  But a few times I just let them squirm.

There was one woman, my very favorite, who could almost always get in and out without waking him up.  Usually she worked days, but sometimes, ah, every once in a while, she worked nights.  I always knew we were more likely to get a better night's sleep when Maria was on.  Deborah was my second favorite.  She was pretty good, too.


All this to say, last night I woke up at 3:30am.  The last I had known anything about Tyler and his fever was when I put him to bed at 9:00.  I really wanted to leave him sleeping, but the thought of him possibly laying in there burning up with fever was too much to bear, so I quietly opened his door and took a look at him.  My hands were useless.  They had been bundled up under the covers with me... I don't know... maybe I'd even been laying on them.  So, thermometer it was.


He stirred some as I held his arm against his side, but then the thing started beeping it was done.  LOUDLY.  I couldn't shut it off or the reading would go away, so I ran into the next room to read it in there.  With it beeping the whole time.  And, of course, Tyler was awake and crying from the first beep.

So I scooped him up and rocked and nursed him, thinking back to all those nights of vitals, and admiring those techs and nurses for all of their skills and tenderness taking care of my other baby.


And wishing I had a name badge with a mini-mag-light hanging from it. 

Make a wish, Alan

One day, several weeks ago, Alan sat at McDonald's between me and his Daddy, across the table from "a very nice lady" who had come with a bag full of goodies and One Big Question.


Half an hour later, Alan left McDonald's with a green toy tractor, a stuffed horse, and a new package of crayons.


His new friend left with the answer to her question:
Alan's wish.


Piece by piece, Alan's wish has been playing out before him, and yesterday, one very big piece came true.  In fact, one very big piece came.... right to Alan's house!


It rounded the corner, led in parade-style with a police escort - lights, sirens, everything.  Alan caught his first glimpse:

And then ran to meet it.

Oh, the joy and excitement when that big truck hauling his big wish pulled into his backyard!

The little man in him couldn't resist helping out and giving a few backing directions:

It was a day made for little boys...

Little boys who couldn't (and didn't) wait to start playing.

It is more than Alan, or his mom & dad, had ever imagined.  Both inside...

...and out!

Amazingly... there is still more to come.  
The finishing touches for Alan's wish will come this Sunday, at a party in his honor.  You can be sure details and pictures will be posted here!

Deja Vu

I am busy tonight getting ready for a clinic visit at Children's tomorrow.  I have been gathering up baby food and cheerios, bottles and pacifiers, diapers and toys. 


It all seems so familiar.  


It seems almost right in an odd sort of way for Children's and babyhood to go hand in hand.


But this time the baby is not the patient and the 'patient' is no longer a baby.


Blessedly, the 'patient' no longer seems much like a patient anymore either.


Even as he left his babyhood behind, we also left behind the days of surgeries, and scary fevers and frequent labs.  At least for now... and hopefully forever.  


The twice-daily medicine and every-other-month pokes for blood-work have blended into the background of family life so that we hardly notice them.  The caution of hand-washing and avoiding wintertime crowds has become habit.


And an all-out gather-everybody-and-your-gear and head to Children's trip has become out of the ordinary.  An event instead a routine.


It is one of the many things I am thankful for.

A child's view of a liver transplant

As I mentioned earlier, our 5 year old nephew, Aaron, is staying with us this week.


The first night he was here, he and Dale and Alan were all getting dressed for bed, when the following conversation occurred:

Aaron, pointing to Alan's surgery scars: I see where he got cut.

Me: Yes, we call those his 'train tracks'.  

Aaron: Why did he get cut?

Me: He got a new liver.

Aaron: What is a liver?

Me: It's kind of like your heart, but it has a different job.

Aaron: Oh.  What is its job?

Dale: Your liver cleans your blood.

Aaron.  Oh.  Well why did he need a new blood cleaner?

Me: His old one quit working.

And that was it.  With that little bit of information, he was satisfied, and we all went about our business of getting everyone to bed.


Alan stood watching and listening to our conversation, fingering his 'train tracks' the whole while.  


Later I realized I have been wrong in my imagination of some day sitting Alan down and telling him the whole story.  He'll know his story as well as any of the rest of us know the story of the day we were born (was it snowing? raining? windy? the middle of the night? a hurried rush to the hospital?).  


But He will learn it bit by bit, as it is told to others, as he lives each new chapter, and as he asks questions of his own.


And at the heart of his story will always be two things: God's miraculous intervention time after time, and one precious donor whose family said 'yes'.  

What's in a name?

1. From the day an infant Alan was diagnosed, our lives gained a new dynamic: liver disease.  


The first 18 months were the most intense.  We lived, breathed, talked, and dreamed about liver disease, cirrhosis of the liver, liver enzymes, and liver transplants.  


Liver, liver, liver. 


 It occupied our minds constantly, and although it isn't quite so much at the forefront of our minds these days, all things liver are still significant.




2. We had a very difficult time choosing a name for Tyler.  


Over the course of the second half of the pregnancy, we seriously considered around a dozen names, and another 2 or 3 dozen were thrown out as less-likely contenders.  We are only partially joking when we say that he got his name because "Tyler" happened to be the 'name-of-the-week' when he was born.




3. Along the way, one of the names we considered was "Oliver". 


 It had an 'L' like Dale and Alan.  The 'v' went well with our last name.  It is the middle name of one of my grandfathers.  


Now, since you are reading this instead of hearing it, you might have already guessed where this is heading.  If not, I'll help you out...


It suddenly occurred to us one day, what "Oliver" really says:


O. Liver.


And that was the end of "Oliver". 

2 years ago today

December 30, 2007

2:33am - We got "The Call" that there was a possible liver for Alan.

3:30am - Drove away from home, waving goodbye to family.  Would not return until Valentine's Day.

6:00am - Arrived at hospital.  Went through the admission process just like it was any other admission.

Alan outfitted with an IV and began receiving fluids pre-op medications.  

Family began to arrive.  Alan received more pre-op meds:

8:20am - Alan was tired.  And hungry.  And we could have hours yet to wait.  Kristin took a turn entertaining a cranky baby amongst a pensive crowd.

8:35am - Greg got Alan to go to sleep.  He always could work magic with Alan on his shoulder.

9:00am - We were escorted to a pre-op room to continue waiting.

9:38 am - Once good and awake from his short nap, Alan was extremely happy and active.  Hard to believe the baby playing with everything he could reach and flirting with everyone in sight would soon be headed off to surgery.

10:34am - Still waiting.  In a tiny room.  The nurses from the recovery room next door brought in a stuffed horse for Alan.  They had been saving it for a special occasion, and decided transplant day for such a cutie pie was just the occasion they'd been waiting for.

11:24am - Still waiting.  Time for another nap.  Gramps' lap this time.

11:30am - Another nap interrupted.  This time for the big event.  A nurse carried Alan away down the hall, and into the operating room.  We watched them until we couldn't see them anymore.  By nothing more than answered prayer, Alan didn't cry to be carried away by a stranger, to a strange place.  She talked to him the whole way, pointing out pictures on the walls.  We have always been grateful such a difficult transition went so smoothly.

11:42am - All set up for more waiting.

2:14pm - More waiting...

and waiting.

3:17 pm - Alan's old yucky liver was brought out for us to see and feel.  It was big.  And hard.

4:19pm - Still waiting.  Things were sounding pretty good for Alan, although there were still a few hours left to go before surgery would be over.  We gathered all the wonderful family and friends that had come to support us for a group picture.

8:21pm - Finally able to see our baby boy.

The longest day of our lives?  Probably.  

The worst day of our lives?  Most definitely not.  

The best?  That's hard to say.  

December 30, 2007 was a beginning.  

The beginning of  a new life for Alan.  Of a long journey for all of us.  

We are forever grateful to God for the blessings he has shown Alan and our family.  And to the family that said, 'yes' when it mattered most.  And we can honestly say that we treasure each day with the ones we love, including the one whose life was spared on December 30, 2007.